


Worlds Apart

by exclamation



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Parallel Universes, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-29
Updated: 2014-07-19
Packaged: 2018-02-06 17:00:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 14
Words: 32,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1865535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exclamation/pseuds/exclamation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nothing exciting ever happens in Beacon Hills... until Stiles appears to get a stalker. A strange guy is breaking into his house, watching him at lacrosse practice and grabbing him outside of the school. This guy claims that he's a werewolf who knows Stiles in another world... and he needs Stiles' help to figure out what happened to him. </p><p>Agreeing to help a werewolf research parallel worlds is one thing... hiding it from his dad is another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The noise that woke Stiles was faint enough that he wasn’t sure at first what it was. He nearly dismissed it and went straight back to sleep. Then he saw the shadowy form drop in through the open window. 

He leapt from the bed, hurrying to the light switch and grabbing the first thing he could find as a weapon: his lacrosse stick. In the sudden brightness, a strange man was standing by the window, which Stiles was certain had been closed when he went to bed. He was a young man, with dark hair above chiselled features, along with a body apparently athletic enough to let him climb up the side of the house. 

“Who the hell are you?” Stiles demanded. The man looked puzzled. 

“Stiles?” he said. 

“No. I’m Stiles. Who the fuck are you?” 

“I’m…” the guy started. Then he stopped and looked down at the lacrosse stick in Stiles’ hands, brandished in front of him like a club. 

“Are you threatening me with a lacrosse stick?” the guy asked, clearly surprised. It wasn’t much of a weapon, even Stiles could admit. 

“I can do better,” Stiles said. Then he yelled: “Dad! Bring you gun!” 

There was movement elsewhere in the house. The mysterious intruder swore under his breath and made a dive for the window. He swung his legs over the frame and dropped down to the ground below. Stiles’ dad burst into the room as Stiles ran to the window. He expected to see the guy in a puddle of agony on the ground below. Instead, he saw a shadowy figure running at full speed into the darkness. 

“What is it?” his dad asked. 

“There was someone in my room,” Stiles said. Stiles was still holding tightly onto the lacrosse stick. As his dad came over to him, Stiles realised his hands were shaking. 

***

“So who was he?” Scott asked, when Stiles told him the story the next day. There were walking towards the school, Scott giving him the details about his night-time encounter. 

“No idea,” Stiles said, “but you know the weird thing?” 

“Do I know _the_ weird thing about a strange man breaking into your bedroom in the middle of the night?” 

“He seemed surprised that I didn’t know him,” Stiles said. 

Scott considered this for a minute as they walked up the steps and into the school. 

“You’re right,” he said. “That is weird.” 

“Exactly,” Stiles said. They paused their conversation briefly while they went to their lockers to grab the books required for the first class. It was weird how normal everything seemed today. People going to school and chattering like they would on any other day. It was almost enough to convince Stiles that last night had been just a strangely vivid dream. Almost. 

When they started down the hall towards chemistry, they continued with the conversation as if the pause had never happened. 

“Maybe you met him queuing for coffee or something,” Scott said, “and he thought you’d made a connection and that’s what made him go all stalkery.” 

Stiles shook his head, “No. If I’d met this guy before, I would have remembered. If someone like him had shown any interest in me, I’d have been shouting it from the rooftops. He looked like he could be a model for body spray commercials.” 

Scott shot him a look, “Stiles, please tell me that you’re not developing a crush on this creeper.” 

“It’s not like that. I’m just saying that, from a completely objective perspective, this guy is a smoking pile of hotness.” 

Scott gave him another look, one which clearly translated into a feeling that Stiles was being an idiot. He was probably right, but Stiles couldn’t ignore the fact that the guy who’d broken into his house had been gorgeous. Yes, he was absolutely terrified about the fact that someone could get so close to him while he was sleeping and that he might do anything, but there was still some little part of Stiles’ brain that was a little bit flattered that he might have a hot, crazy stalker. 

They reached the chemistry lab and found seats near the back, the other spaces gradually filling up with students as they came closer to the bell. Mr Harris was at the front of the classroom, bringing out sheets of paper. Stiles hoped it wasn’t a test. He knew Mr Harris wouldn’t take ‘emotional distress on account of being stalked’ as a suitable excuse. 

“Did he say what he wanted?” Scott asked. 

Stiles shook his head, “He was in my room in the middle of the night. I wasn’t going to give him a chance to demonstrate.” 

“Fair enough.” 

Mr Harris started handing out the sheets of paper. Not a quiz, thank god, but instructions for an experiment they were going to be carrying out. He shot Stiles and Scott a glare as he handed over their sheets and walked past them. Scott waited until Harris had passed and then continued the conversation. 

“Is your dad freaking out?” 

“Big time. He’s started talking about getting security cameras fitting.” 

“In your room?” 

“Yeah. Can’t say I’m too thrilled at the concept.” He would be happy knowing he was safe and he could understand why his dad would be too, but cameras in his room were not an option he wanted to consider. He really, really didn’t want his dad seeing some of the things he got up to when he was alone in his room. 

“Mr McCall, Mr Stilinski,” Harris said loudly, “if that is what you think counts as a hushed whisper, I suggest turning down the volume on your headphones from time to time.” 

He gestured for them to move to seats further apart, which pretty much killed the conversation between them for the rest of class. 

***

They had lacrosse practice that afternoon. They headed out to the pitch, where a handful of students were gathering to watch the practice and Stiles spotted a particular strawberry blond, pulling a stylish coat around her against the wind. 

“Hi, Lydia,” he said. “That’s a really nice…” She walked past him. “…coat.” 

Lydia didn’t seem to notice that he’d even spoken to her. Time and again, she didn’t even see he was there. He might as well be invisible. Scott gave a snort of laughter and shook his head. 

“When are you going to give it up?” Scott asked.

“Maybe I should move on,” Stiles said. “After all, I’ve got myself a crazy, hot stalker. Or possibly a hot, crazy stalker.” 

“You shouldn’t be enjoying this so much.” 

They reached the field and, under a torrent of coach’s yells, they began practice. As Stiles took a run down the field, aiming a shot at the goal, he thought he saw someone out of the corner of his eye, a figure under the trees at the edge of the pitch. He hurled the ball and then turned to get a better look. But there was no one there. A trick of the light? His fear making him imagine things? 

“Bilinski!” Coach yelled, “Get your ass out of the way unless you want it to be used as target practice!” 

Stiles moved out of the way, heading to the back of the line for his next turn. 

“Stiles, what’s wrong?” Scott asked as he passed him. 

“Nothing. I just thought I saw him.” 

“Him? The creeper from last night?” 

Stiles looked towards the trees. There was no one in sight. Stiles was probably losing his mind. Maybe the guy from last night had been a thief breaking in and nothing more, maybe he was letting his fear make this into something bigger than it was. 

“McCall!” Coach yelled. “Get moving!” 

Scott picked up a ball and ran towards the goal. Stiles moved back into line and watched his friend. Scott’s throw was off-target at the end because he’d started wheezing. Stiles still thought it was stupid that Scott kept trying at lacrosse. This was the inevitable result: an asthma attack on the field. 

“Oh for god’s sake, McCall,” Coach said, “you’re worse than Greenburg! Get your inhaler and take five.” 

***

Stiles was eager to get home after school. He wanted to be somewhere he could lock all the doors and make sure that scary creepers weren’t going to stalk him. He headed to his jeep and climbed into the driver’s seat, tossing his bag in beside him. He buckled himself in and put the keys in the ignition. 

He heard the sound behind him only a moment before he felt something sharp against the side of his neck. There was someone in his jeep with him. They must have been waiting in the back seat. Stiles’ heart raced in his chest and he stared out in front of him, at where everyone else was more interested in getting to their own cars than looking and seeing what was going on in his. 

He tried to calculate the odds of getting out of the car before he got his throat cut. He didn’t think they looked very good but maybe he should take the chance anyway. 

“Don’t make a sound,” said a man’s voice from the back seat. “Just start the car and start driving.” 

Stiles turned the key, offering a silent prayer that his jeep would behave itself for once. His hand was shaking on the key, but the engine started up. Stiles put the car into gear and clenched his hands on the wheel. He could feel himself shaking and he was worried that he might accidentally slit his own throat or something just from his fear. He glanced up at the mirror with the least possible movement of his head, and then backed out of the parking space. 

“What do you want?” Stiles asked quietly. 

“Just drive towards the nature preserve.” 

Stiles pulled the car out of the school parking lot, still staring straight ahead. He saw a few people walking away from the school grounds but no one seemed to be looking in his direction. No one seemed to be seeing him being carjacked from a busy parking lot. 

As he pulled onto the road away from the school the sharp something disappeared from his neck. He once again considered his chances if he tried to run. He would have to stop the jeep, undo his seatbelt, get the door open and run before the guy could stab him from behind. He wasn’t sure he’d be quick enough. 

There was movement behind him. Stiles’ hands tightened on the steering wheel, and then the guy was scrambling between the seats, climbing from the back and into the passenger seat. Stiles gave a sideways glance. Unsurprisingly, it was the guy from last night. In the light of day, he looked no less menacing, and no less hot, all tight muscles and rough stubble. There was no sign though of whatever weapon he’d used. Maybe Stiles would have a chance of running after all. 

“Don’t even think about it,” the guy said. 

“How do you know what I’m thinking?” Stiles asked. 

“It’s written on your face. Don’t.” 

The guy looked perfectly serious, but also strangely calm. He didn’t look like this was at all difficult for him, physically or emotionally. There was a confidence about his posture that told Stiles that any attempt to run would be over pretty damn quickly. Besides, run where? They were heading away from the school, away from most of the people who might have helped him. If Stiles tried to run, this guy would probably catch him in moments. 

“Are you going to kill me?” Stiles asked. 

“No.” 

“Are you going to… rape me? Because, let me tell you, with a body like yours you really don’t have to resort to these tactics. You could just go to any club in the country and guys will be lining up round the block, eager and willing. So, you know, rape really isn’t necessary.” 

“Why the hell would you think I’d want to rape you?” The guy sounded astonished by the mere concept. 

“Gee thanks,” Stiles muttered. 

Creeper guy raised an eyebrow in his direction, “Are you seriously offended that I don’t want to rape you?” 

“Of course not. It’s just the way you said it, like the idea of sleeping with me is so disgusting that you’re horrified I even raised the subject.” 

“I didn’t say it like that,” he said. 

“Yes, you did. Look, I know I’m not the most attractive guy on the planet but there’s no reason to sound quite so shocked by the possibility of sleeping with me.” 

“Fine,” said creeper guy. “I find you very attractive, Stiles, and if I were going to start raping people, I’d start with you. Happy now?” 

“Of course I’m not happy! You just said you’d rape me!” 

Creeper guy gave a frustrated sigh. He glared at Stiles. Stiles wondered if he should have just kept his mouth shut. A guy who could climb up the side of his house could probably do all manner of painful things to him. 

“Is it your secret plan,” creeper guy asked, “to irritate me so much that my head explodes?” 

“Not really,” Stiles answered. He didn’t have a plan, secret or otherwise. He tried to think about the advice his dad had given to him about what do it if he ever got kidnapped or taken hostage. Surprisingly enough, he had actually had that conversation with his dad. He guessed it came from having a father who worked in law enforcement. Apparently, he was supposed to stay calm and try to make a connection to his kidnapper. If creeper guy saw him as a person rather than a target, it would be harder for him to kill him. Assuming he wasn’t a complete sociopath. 

Stiles’ pocket started ringing and he nearly jumped out of his skin. It was his dad’s ringtone. Maybe this was his chance to get help. He tried to keep that thought from his face. He looked towards creeper guy, who seemed surprised by the call but not alarmed. 

“Take your phone out of your pocket and hand it over.” 

Stiles reached into his pocket, keeping his other hand on the wheel. For a moment, he considered just answering the phone and yelling for help, but then creeper guy had it out of his hand and looked at the screen. 

“It’s your dad,” he said. “Tell him you’ll be studying with Scott and will probably have dinner at his place. You won’t be home until later. Pretend everything’s normal. If he doesn’t get involved, he doesn’t get hurt.” 

The guy hit the answer button and held the phone up to Stiles’ ear. Stiles tried not to think about the implied threat in that last statement because otherwise he wouldn’t be able to sound normal on the phone. 

“Hey, Dad,” he said. 

“Everything OK, son?” 

“Yeah. Everything’s fine. I’m just going over to Scott’s. Working on some homework together.” 

“You’re with Scott now?” There was an edge to the question. Did his dad already know something was wrong? Stiles had to think quickly. He had to think of some way to get a message to him without creeper guy knowing that he was doing so. 

“Yeah, we’re heading to his place,” Stiles said. “I’ll probably be there late, play a few games with his dad after dinner. You know, the usual.” 

Before his dad could say anything in response, creeper guy opened the jeep’s window and hurled the phone out of it. 

“Hey!” Stiles protested, as his phone went flying into the trees that edged the road. His phone was probably in pieces now. For some reason, Stiles was more angry about that than about the fact he was being kidnapped. 

“Playing games with Scott’s dad?” creeper guy said. “What kind of idiot do you take me for?” 

“The kind of idiot who would kidnap the sheriff’s son. Seriously, my dad will kill you for this.” 

Creeper guy gave another annoyed sigh. 

“Turn here,” he said. He pointed to a dirt track that led off into the nature preserve. There was nothing up this track apart from the ruins of some old house that had burned down years ago. Stiles couldn’t imagine where creeper guy would be taking him in these woods. 

“Oh god,” Stiles said. “You’re going to murder me and bury my body in the woods, aren’t you?” 

“Stiles, I said I don’t want to kill you, but I’m strongly considering duct taping your mouth shut. Just drive.”


	2. Chapter 2

At creeper guy’s instruction, Stiles parked beside the big, ruined house in the woods. The Hale house, destroyed in a fire years ago with the whole family inside. Stiles’ dad had been involved in the investigation. The house had stood empty for years since then. Stiles wasn’t sure what this guy would want here now. 

“Give me your keys,” the guy said. Stiles pulled the keys out of the ignition and handed them over. 

“Get out of the car,” creeper guy said next. Stiles opened the door and climbed out of his jeep while the guy was still in the passenger seat. Now or never. 

He started running, pounding his feet faster than he’d ever done before in his life. He raced back down the dirt track towards civilisation, thinking of nothing but the need to escape. 

A hand grabbed his arm, yanking him backwards. Stiles nearly fell. A moment later, creeper guy spun him around and Stiles found himself slammed into a tree trunk, pinned between the tree and the man. He panted, breathless and scared, as the man loomed in his face. Creeper guy held his arm tightly and his other hand pressed in the middle of Stiles’ chest, holding him against the tree. Stiles squirmed, but there was no way he could get out of this hold. 

“That was exceptionally stupid,” creeper guy said. His eyes glared intensely into Stiles’. Then he stepped back, yanking on Stiles’ arm. Stiles stumbled forward. Creeper guy let go of his arm but gave him a shove back towards the house and the jeep. Stiles had barely made it fifty yards before he’d been caught. As escape plans went, that one had really sucked. 

Creeper guy gave him another shove, towards the steps of the house this time. Stiles looked up at the scorched ruins. He’d heard stories about this place of course. Kids came here from time to time, talking about the family that had burned alive inside, scaring each other with stories of ghosts. Stiles hadn’t really believed those stories but right now didn’t seem like the best time to put them to the test. 

“Are you sure it’s safe?” Stiles asked. 

“The house is the least of your worries.” 

Stiles stumbled up the steps, creeper guy right behind him, and in through the front door. The inside looked worse than the outside. Everything was blackened and dirty, smoke-stained or covered in ash. It was dark and shadowy, light from broken windows just making strange shapes out of shadows. A few scattered fragments of furniture were the only testament to the fact that a whole family had once lived here. The whole place felt like death. 

Stiles drew a shaking breath. 

“Why did you bring me here?” he asked. 

“Your dad’s probably already looking for you,” creeper guy said, “so we don’t have much time. I’m going to just show you something because I don’t think you’ll believe anything I’ve got to tell you unless you see this first. Just... try not to freak out.” 

“That’s a really bad thing to say, because it basically prepares me mentally for the fact that there’s something worth freaking out about and I don’t know what you could have to show me that could be good that involves kidnapping me and dragging me into the middle of the woods so I’d just...” 

“Stiles!” The name came out sounding more like a growl. In the darkness, creeper guy’s eyes seemed to shine, a glowing, brilliant blue. He jerked his head from side to side and with each movement came a change. Hair sprouted from his cheeks. His ears grew to points. And those teeth. Stiles could barely look away from them, watching ordinary teeth lengthen to sharp fangs. 

Stiles hadn’t realised he was backing away until his back ran into the wall. He was still staring at the guy in front of him, a guy who wouldn’t possibly be human. 

“Oh my god,” he said. “You’re going to eat me, aren’t you?” 

“I’m not going to eat you, Stiles.” He sounded just the same, irritated but human. 

“What are you?” 

“A werewolf.” 

Stiles wondered if he’d bashed his head on the tree earlier. This was insane. 

“A werewolf?” he said. “Like an honest-to-goodness, turns-into-a-monster-on-the-full-moon werewolf?” 

“Well, I can control the shift so I only change when I want to, but yes.” 

“So what the hell do you want with me?” Stiles asked. His mind was bringing back memories of horror movies, of werewolves turning others with a bite. This guy had said he wasn’t going to eat him, but Stiles wasn’t sure the alternatives were any better. 

He looked down and saw the claws on the end of the guy's hands. The sharp thing he’d felt in the car, that he’d assumed was a knife or something, had actually been this guy’s claws. Which meant it was impossible to disarm him. And there was probably super strength or something to explain the whole climbing-the-side-of-the-house thing. Stiles had never had a hope of escaping. 

“This is going to sound weird,” the werewolf said. 

“You just turned into a werewolf right in front of me and _now_ you’re worried about sounding weird?” 

“As far as I’m concerned, we know each other. We’re friends, almost. At the very least, we’re allies.” 

“I’ve never met you before. Unless you count breaking into my bedroom, which wasn’t really much of an introduction.” 

“I said it was weird,” creeper guy said. His face was shifting again, fangs retracting as he took on his way-too-hot human appearance. When he looked human again, he continued, “As far as I’m concerned, Scott was bitten a couple of years ago. Not by me, I should add. You figured out that he was turning into a werewolf and we helped him learn to control his powers and the two of you helped me track down the other werewolf, which was going around killing people. We’ve known each other for more than two years and we’ve fought side-by-side against werewolves and other things. Then something happened to me yesterday. I got hit with some sort of energy attack and it’s like everything I know is wrong. Look at this house.” 

He gestured at the ruins. Stiles looked around, wondering what he was supposed to be seeing other than rubble and ash. He wondered if this guy was insane. Was an insane werewolf better or worse than a sane one? 

“This house burned down years ago,” the guy went on. “As far as I remember, me and one of my sisters were at school at the time, and two others of my family survived injured. I went and looked up the newspaper reports. They say that everyone died. As far as the world is concerned, I died in this house and everything that’s happened since then has happened differently, or not happened at all. Nothing that I know makes sense anymore. Nothing that I remember is real.” 

The guy had seemed quiet and grumpy and angry for the whole of this kidnapping ordeal but now he was talking. He still looked more than a bit angry, but he was animated now, moving around, pacing slightly in front of Stiles. He kept turning to look at Stiles with a sort of burning intensity that carried more than anger. He looked almost scared. Right now, this guy looked as confused as Stiles was. 

“Are you talking about parallel worlds?” Stiles asked. 

“I don’t know. Am I?” 

“OK, the theory goes that there are an infinite number of worlds. You toss a coin and in one universe, the coin comes down heads, in the other, it comes down tails. There are more and more of these universes for all the choices you could possibly make. There are some that are really similar and some where the whole of human history has happened differently.” 

“Are you saying I’ve somehow been transported to a parallel universe where I died in the fire?” 

“I don’t know! I’m just thinking out loud. I’m still trying to wrap my head around the idea that frigging werewolves are real! This is absolutely nuts. You do realise how crazy this sounds?” 

“I have proof,” the guy said. He reached into a pocket and pulled out his wallet. From inside, he took a slightly crumpled photograph and he offered it over to Stiles. It was a group of people gathered around a couch, with what looked like the edge of a Christmas tree just poking into the side of the shot. In the picture, Stiles was sitting in the middle of the couch. Scott was on one side of him and this guy on the other and he had an arm around each of them. Gathered around and behind the couch were other people: his dad, Scott’s mom, Danny from the lacrosse team, a few teenagers he didn’t recognise and, of all people, Lydia Martin. They were all smiling at the camera. 

It wasn’t completely proof. It could have just been a really good photoshop job, but who would go to the trouble of faking something like that? This was a ridiculous amount of trouble for a prank or a con. 

The guy took the photograph back and looked at him seriously, saying, “Stiles, please, I need your help.” 

“Why me?” 

“Because you’re the one who figures things out. You worked out that Scott was a werewolf before he did. When we have a mystery, you’re the one who does research and makes boards with coloured string criss-crossing all over them and you find the answers.” 

“But why should I help you?” Stiles asked. “You kidnapped me. You broke my phone. You’ve been nothing but grumpy and mean to me. So why in hell should I lift a finger to help you?” 

Creeper guy stared at Stiles. He looked like he was about to speak but then he turned away. All the life and emotion that had been showing moments earlier seemed to fade away into a cold mask. It was like he was withdrawing into himself. It was almost heart-breaking to watch. 

“Forget it then,” he said. “You’re right. You don’t know me. You don’t owe me anything. Go home, Stiles.” 

There was something painfully, pathetically sad about the way he said it, like he was utterly resigned to the fact that no one would want to help him. Stiles knew he must be out of his mind, but something inside of him yearned to make that sadness go away. 

“Fine,” Stiles said, “I’ll help. But you owe me a phone.” 

Creeper guy turned to look at him again, “Are you serious?” 

“Never knowingly. But I’ll help. I haven’t a clue where to start, but I’ll help.” 

The guy smiled. It was a sudden, brilliant smile that dramatically changed his whole face. The dark and moody expression melted away. 

The smile was gone in an instant, but Stiles liked to believe it lingered a little in the guy’s eyes. 

“First things first though,” Stiles said, “what the hell are we going to tell my dad? He’s probably mounting search parties for me right now.” 

“Tell him it was a prank,” creeper guy said. “Tell him that some jerks from the lacrosse team grabbed you as a joke. No one got hurt so there’s no need for him to make a fuss.” 

The answer came at once. Perhaps this guy had already worked out the cover story before he’d grabbed Stiles. It had a ring of plausibility to it, Stiles had to admit. He wasn’t sure though about lying to his dad about something this big. He didn’t tell his dad everything, but hiding the existence of werewolves was just enormous. 

“So you don’t want me to tell him about you?” Stiles asked. 

“No. I don’t want you to tell anyone about me. There are hunters out there, people who’ll kill people like me and some of them aren’t too concerned with who else gets hurt along the way. I don’t know where they are now. I don’t want anyone to know about me because I don’t want them to know. Don’t tell anyone about me being a werewolf.” 

“But I’ve got to tell Scott.” 

“No.” 

“But I tell Scott everything. Besides, you said he was a friend as far as you’re concerned.” 

“That’s different.” Creeper guy looked away into the distance and then gave another of those frustrated sighs. “Fine. You can tell Scott, but no one else. And don’t go discussing this in loud voices in the middle of school where anyone could overhear.” 

Stiles made a crossing-the-heart gesture. Creeper guy gave a huff of noise that might have been annoyance or amusement. But there was still a problem. 

“How are we going to explain you to my dad?” Stiles asked. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, if I’m going to be helping you figure out this parallel world thing, then that means you’ll be hanging around. How do I explain that?” 

Clearly that was one thing that creeper guy hadn’t planned out. He just looked at Stiles blankly. Stiles sighed, wracking his brain for an idea. 

“Maybe we could say I’m doing a research project to look good on my college applications,” Stiles said, “and that you’re a college student who’s helping me out with it.” 

Creeper guy raised an eyebrow, “Do I look like a college student?” 

“No. You look like a guy my dad will shoot if he finds out you’ve kidnapped me.” 

Creeper guy made another frustrated noise. He seemed to do that a lot. Stiles tried to think of a better cover story, one that would make sense to his dad. Maybe he could use this whole kidnapping thing to his advantage. He looked creeper guy up and down. Definitely a lot of muscle there. 

“You’re my new personal trainer,” Stiles said. Creeper guy raised a questioning eyebrow. “I’ll say I got freaked out by the guy in my room and by how easily the lacrosse guys grabbed me, so I decided I needed to get tougher. I’ve hired you to work with me after school to, you know, get me fitter and work on self-defence and stuff.” 

Creeper guy looked Stiles up and down critically, “I guess we can work with that.” 

Suddenly he tilted his head, as though listening. Stiles frowned, listening too, trying to hear whatever he was hearing. There was nothing. 

“There’s a car engine approaching,” creeper guy said. “It might be your dad. You’d better go. I’ll come to your house later.” 

He tossed Stiles the keys to the jeep. Stiles fumbled them at first but then managed to grab hold. 

“OK,” said Stiles, “but no more breaking into my bedroom while I’m asleep.” 

“OK.” 

Stiles started towards the door. He paused and glanced back. 

“What’s your name?” 

“Derek. Derek Hale.” 

Stiles nodded and then hurried outside. He couldn’t hear anything yet, but he went to his jeep anyway, starting up the engine and turning the thing around. When he got his car pointing in the right direction, he saw the police car pulling up. Stiles left the engine running, but he got out of the jeep to greet his dad, who climbed from his own car. A moment later, Stiles found himself enveloped in a hug. 

“I’m OK, Dad,” he said. 

“What happened? Are you hurt?” 

“I’m fine. Honest.” 

“But what happened? Scott said he saw someone grab you outside the school.” 

“Just a couple of jerks from the lacrosse team,” Stiles said, repeating the lie Derek had given him. “They were playing a joke. A really not funny joke.” 

“Who was it?” 

Stiles shook his head, “Dad, don’t make a fuss. It won’t help anything.” 

“If they’ve hurt you...” 

“Dad, look at me. Not a scratch. Just forget it. They’re just idiots.” 

He hugged his dad again, just to make a point. Stiles couldn’t quite believe that he was here trying to calm his dad down after being scared for his life not so long ago, but Derek had just let him go, and he’d sounded so sincere about needing help. Stiles had said he’d help him so he would. He could always tell his dad the truth later, if it turned out that Derek had been less than honest about what was going on. 

His dad must have been seriously freaked out about this. It was hardly surprising really. He’d probably freak out even more if Stiles told him the truth about werewolves and monsters and parallel worlds. Maybe it was better for everyone if he didn’t know. 

“How did you find me?” Stiles asked. 

His dad reached into his pocket and pulled out a phone. It was Stiles’. The screen had a large crack running across it, but it was still running. 

“GPS. When I found the phone, I knew there weren’t many places in these woods that someone could be heading for so I took a chance.” He looked towards the ruined house. “Why would someone pick this place?” 

“Oh, you know, the usual stories about it being haunted. They were trying to freak me out. But I don’t get scared by ghost stories.” 

“And you’re really alright? After last night... I was worried.” 

“Dad, I promise. I’m fine.” He just hoped he would continue to be so. He gave another glance towards the ruined house, where Derek would still be hiding inside. Stiles had just promised to help a werewolf. He must be out of his mind.


	3. Chapter 3

His dad had to get back to work, but insisted that Stiles go home, and his car followed close behind the jeep the whole of the way, just to make sure. While Stiles reached the house, Scott was there, waiting by the front door. Stiles found himself wrapped in another hug as soon as he stepped out of his jeep, but Scott let go far more quickly than his dad had done. 

“It was the creeper, wasn’t it?” Scott asked. “The guy from last night?” 

Stiles glanced around and gave a wave to his dad, who pointed at the front door and then drove his car past the house, heading back to work. Stiles waited until his dad was completely out of sight before answering Scott. 

“The story I’ve given my dad is that a couple of the guys from the lacrosse team grabbed me and dragged me out to the old Hale house as a prank.” 

“Why would you lie to your dad?” 

Stiles went to front door and unlocked it, letting them both in. He headed through to the kitchen to grab a drink and a snack. He needed something. After the fear and excitement of this afternoon, the adrenaline crash was sapping him of energy. It also gave him a moment to think of a way to explain this to Scott that wouldn’t get him mad. Unfortunately, thinking up something like that would take considerably more than a moment, so Stiles had to just go for it. 

“The guy asked me not to tell anyone what really happened. Anyone except you. I told him that I tell you everything and he was OK with that as long as you don’t tell anyone else.” 

“Why the hell would you agree to that? Did he threaten you?” 

“No, he just asked me.” 

Scott once again gave Stiles the look which clearly articulated that he thought Stiles was out of his mind. Stiles was used to that look and just continued to make his sandwich. 

“Please don’t tell me you’ve got a crush on your stalker,” Scott said. 

“No. It’s not like that. He just asked for my help.” 

“Most people don’t kidnap someone to ask for their help.” 

“This guy isn’t most guys.” 

“Oh god, you do have a crush.” 

Stiles wondered how to explain. He could say that Derek was a werewolf but the odds of Scott believing it were pretty damn low, especially since he couldn’t get Scott to believe that this was nothing at all to do with how hot Derek was. 

Stiles grabbed his snack and drink and headed upstairs, Scott trailing behind him. It was supposed to give Stiles a bit of extra time to think up how to explain, but he still wasn’t getting anywhere when he reached his bedroom. He balanced the cup and plate in one hand so he could open the door and then he stepped inside. 

“Gah!” Stiles jumped, spilling half his drink down his front in the process. 

Derek was standing in the middle of his bedroom. 

“I’m calling your dad,” Scott said, coming into the room and seeing what the fuss was about. He was looking at Derek with a mixture of anger and fear, and already reaching for his phone. 

“Scott, don’t,” Stiles said, then turned to Derek, “What did I say about breaking into my room?” 

“Not to do it while you were asleep,” Derek answered. Stiles thought back over their earlier conversation. 

“Damn it,” he said. Derek gave a victorious smirk. 

“Well you and I need to have a conversation about acceptable boundaries. And how the hell did you get here so fast?” 

“I can be fast when I need to be.” 

Scott stepped close up behind Stiles and muttered, “Stiles, stop arguing with the crazy stalker.” 

“I’m not a stalker,” Derek said. Stiles decided that it probably wasn’t wise to point out that he hadn’t queried the bit about being crazy. 

“Scott, this is Derek. Yes, he’s the guy who broke into my room last night and kidnapped me from the school.” 

“And why aren’t we calling your dad and getting him arrested?” Scott asked. 

“You haven’t told him everything yet?” Derek asked Stiles. 

“I’ve been trying to think of a way to explain that won’t make me sound insane.” 

“Too late,” Scott muttered. 

Stiles gestured to Derek, “Just show him what you showed me.” 

Derek shot him a look that seemed to be questioning his sanity. He might have a point. Scott had freaked out about a man being here, never mind a monster. But, to Stiles’ surprise, Derek did as Stiles asked. He stood in the middle of Stiles’ bedroom and shifted his form. In bright daylight, Stiles got a clearer view this time as a human-looking face transformed into a monstrous visage. Somehow the thing half-seen in the shadows of the Hale house wasn’t as disturbing as seeing it repeated in somewhere that should be safe and home. 

“What the hell?” Scott asked. 

“I’m a werewolf,” Derek said. 

Scott's reaction was about as bad as Stiles’ had been. He walked backwards into the doorframe. Stiles caught his arm before he kept backing out of the room and fell down the stairs. While Scott was staring wide-eyed at the supernatural creature in front of them, Stiles avoided looking by putting down the plate and glass he was holding, and then rummaging in his drawers for a shirt that wasn’t covered in juice. 

“Show him the photo,” Stiles said. “I’m just going to go in the bathroom and get changed.” 

“Don’t worry about that,” Derek said. “I’ve seen you without your shirt on before.” There was an awkward pause in which Stiles didn’t know what to think let alone say, then Derek said quietly, “That sounded considerably less perverted in my head. I meant the other... you. I’ve seen him without his shirt a few times.” 

Stiles wondered if this was what it was like when other people had to deal with him when he lost control of his brain to mouth filter. He settled for just leaving the room and ducking into the bathroom. He locked the door and just tried to breathe through the sense of panic that was trying to take over. This guy, who’d broken into his house twice, had seen some other version of him topless. And he’d said he found Stiles attractive, though that might have been him being patronising. Stiles tried not to think about it, he just did what he’d intended to do which was cleaning juice of himself and changing his top. 

When he went back into the room, Derek was still talking to Scott about the stuff he’d said to Stiles in the woods. It didn’t sound like it was going well. Derek looked human again but he seemed more angry than when he’d been threatening Stiles with duct tape and claws. 

“I don’t know how I moved into a parallel world,” Derek was saying. “I don’t even know for sure that’s what happened. It’s just what Stiles said and it seems to fit.” 

“And we’re supposed to just believe it because you’ve got a photo?” Scott asked. 

“Maybe. Yes. I didn’t exactly plan this. I don’t have signed statements from you saying that you know me in another world.” 

“And you think that climbing in bedroom windows and kidnapping people is an appropriate way to make an introduction?” 

“I didn’t know Stiles didn’t know me when I came in here the first time and the bedroom window is the easiest way to avoid waking his dad. And after that disaster I knew I couldn’t just walk up to him and introduce myself; I needed to get him alone somewhere where I’d have a chance to explain properly.” 

Stiles hated to admit it, but Derek had a point. If Derek had just walked up to him and asked to talk, after what had happened last night, Stiles would have been calling his dad before the guy could finish the first sentence. Still, Scott had a point too. This whole situation was beyond creepy and into weird stalker territory. Weird, supernatural stalker who’d apparently seen him with his top off before. Stiles tried to stop that thought. 

“Whatever Derek’s reasons for kidnapping me,” Stiles said, getting between the two of them, “it’s done. Let’s move on. I’ve agreed to help Derek research parallel worlds to see if that’s even remotely possible. All you have to do is not tell my dad.” 

“You’re both insane,” Scott said. 

“Is that a yes?” Stiles asked. 

Scott sighed, “I must be insane too. OK, yes. I won’t tell anyone.” He turned to Derek, “But if you do anything to hurt Stiles, that promise going out of the window.” 

“So now what?” Stiles asked. 

“You start researching,” Derek replied. 

“Parallel worlds,” Stiles muttered. He didn’t know where to start. Other universes, alternate timelines, it all seemed like something out of science fiction. He could probably find a dozen movies that touched on the subject but he didn’t know how to begin looking for something real. Still, he went to his computer and booted it up. 

“Got any mystical resources I can use to get me started?” Stiles asked. 

Derek hesitated, “Not really. There is one other person I can ask for help but I’m not sure how much information he’ll be willing to give me.” 

***

Deaton’s clinic looked exactly as it had the last time Derek had seen it. Derek stood outside it for a minute wondering how best to approach this given that it was likely that Deaton wouldn’t recognise him either. In the end, he decided to go for the direct approach. He walked up to the clinic and opened the front door. 

The inside was just the same as he remembered too. The waiting area was separated from the rest of the clinic by a waist-high wall of wood. It was smartly painted but Derek knew what was beneath that paint. It was made of mountain ash, effectively preventing any werewolf from getting in unless Deaton allowed it. 

“I’ll be with you in a minute,” Deaton’s voice called from the room in the back where most of the actual veterinary work took place. Derek waited. He didn’t have much choice; he couldn’t get past the mountain ash barrier. He could listen though, hearing the rustlings of the various animals in the back, and the conversation between Deaton and his current customer. A woman was making soothing baby talk to whatever animal she’d brought in for treatment. 

“There,” Deaton said after a couple of minutes, “all done.” 

The woman continued to baby talk her animal, urging it back into a carry case and repeatedly calling it a good girl. Derek stood by the wall of mountain ash as Deaton opened the door and emerged with the woman, who held a cat in a plastic carrier. The cat started yowling and scratching at the case the moment it caught a whiff of Derek. Derek backed away but that didn’t help; the little creature was trying to escape as the woman carried it out. 

“Hush now,” she said to the cat, still in the baby talk voice. “Be a good girl for mommy.” 

She was still trying to calm the thing down when she left, the door shutting behind her. Hopefully the cat would behave better now that it was no longer in the same room as Derek. 

Derek meanwhile looked back at Deaton. Deaton had opened the gate in the mountain ash wall to let the woman out but now he closed it. Firmly. He smiled politely at Derek, but Derek couldn’t help but be aware of that mystical barrier between the two of them. It was pretty obvious that Deaton didn’t know who he was, but he’d worked out what he was based on the cat’s reaction. 

“How can I help you?” Deaton asked. 

“I’d like to talk to you about the Hales.” 

“The Hales?” Deaton feigned puzzlement. “Oh, yes, that family that burned in the fire years back. Why would you ask me?” 

“I know you were the Hale emissary.” 

Deaton didn’t react. His face remained perfectly calm. Even his heartbeat was steady. It took a lot of skill to be so reactionless in front of a werewolf. 

“I think you may be mistaking me for someone else,” Deaton said. 

“You’re Alan Deaton. You’re a druid and the former emissary of Talia Hale. You have a sister, Ms Morrell, who is emissary to Deucalion and teaches high school French.” Derek wasn’t sure if Ms Morrell was Deaton’s full sister, since she had a different last name. It was possible they were only half siblings. It was also possible that they weren’t related by blood at all and that they referred to each other as brother and sister because of some druidic thing. Derek didn’t voice those thoughts out loud though. 

There was finally a reaction from Deaton. His heart fluttered slightly when Derek mentioned Ms Morrell. The only outward sign was a hardening of his expression. 

“Wherever you’re getting your information, it’s out of date,” Deaton said. “Deucalion is dead. So is my sister.” 

“What?” Derek asked. He was completely thrown by that statement and it seemed that by trying to win Deaton’s trust through showing his knowledge, he’d just rubbed salt into the wound of loss. This world wasn’t the same as his and he couldn’t assume he knew anything about it. 

“I suggest you leave,” Deaton said. 

“Was it the Darach who killed them?” Derek asked. 

Deaton tilted his head, allowing a tiny flicker of curiosity to show on his face, “What do you know about the Darach?” 

Derek decided to jump right in with everything. If anyone was going to believe him, it was Deaton. 

“I’m Derek Hale. I think I’m from another world where things have been happening differently since the fire. Where I’m from, we fought the Darach and stopped her before she finished her killing spree.” 

“Derek Hale is dead,” Deaton said. 

“In this world, apparently. That’s why I came to talk to you. I need to understand what happened to me, why everything changed like this.” 

“The Hales are dead,” Deaton said slowly. “Leave now.” 

“I know how strange this sounds,” Derek started. He didn’t get any further. 

Deaton raised his hand, black powder pooled on his palm, and he blew it in a cloud towards Derek. Werewolf reflexes couldn’t help him with dodging a magically spreading cloud of black dust. It got into his face, into his eyes, burning down his throat into his lungs. Every tiny piece of dust hurt like a bee sting and he started coughing, trying to get the stuff out, but the dust still hung in the air and each cough just made it worse. 

Derek staggered from the clinic, collapsing onto his knees on the ground outside, hacking and coughing. His lungs felt like they were on fire, his eyes were streaming and his skin itched with a need to be rid of this stuff. Was it mountain ash? Or something worse? The fresh air was helping but Derek still felt like he needed a shower inside and out to clean this thing from him. 

While Derek was on the ground, body reacting violently against this poison, Deaton walked calmly up to the front door of the clinic and turned the sign around so that it now said closed.


	4. Chapter 4

Stiles was beginning to think that Derek had made a huge mistake in coming to him for help. Stiles sat at his desk surrounded by a growing pile of paper that contained nothing valuable at all. He had started hunting the internet for anything about parallel worlds and, as expected, come up with a lot of science fiction and a lot of speculation. There were a few web pages discussing the concept in simple terms. There were others which talked about the problems with it as a theory. There were even some that dealt with it in terms of philosophies and whether such a theory would override concepts of free will or determinism. He found lots of sites which mentioned the idea, but it was all as a thought-exercise. Everything was just theory without anything solid about how a person could pass from one world to another. 

A bit of digging into some scientific sites found papers on the subject which delved a bit deeper. Stiles read a couple of them, but others he just printed out and stared in bewilderment at diagrams and equations which meant absolutely nothing to him. One of them started discussing the concept in terms of the weak and strong anthropic principles, which left Stiles befuddled. 

It seemed he wasn’t going to get anywhere exploring the physics angle, which left him with the magical one. He hunted for sites and found a lot which talked about magical worlds alongside the real one. There were apparently spiritual plains and dream dimensions, worlds inhabited by ghosts and worlds inhabited by fairies. Stiles found the website of a psychic who claimed to be able to contact the spirit world, but there was nothing in here about moving from one version of reality to another. 

Stiles hit print on another page, this one talking about the seven plains of perception, and then let his head slump forward to hit his keyboard. 

“It’s easier to type with your hands,” Derek said from behind him. 

Stiles gave a wordless yelp, spinning round to face Derek and nearly falling out of his chair in the process. Derek was standing next to the window, failing to hide the smirk on his face. 

“You and I need to have a conversation about doors,” Stiles said. 

“What have you found?” Derek asked, looking at the snow of papers that lay scattered around Stiles’ printer. 

“Nothing useful whatsoever,” Stiles replied. “A lot of the physics stuff we’d need a mathematical genius to understand.” 

“We’re not involving Lydia in this,” Derek said. 

Stiles needed for a moment for his brain to catch up with this train of thought. He’d seen Lydia at school and knew she was smart, even though she pretended not to be. She would spend half her classes staring off into space or doodling in her notepads, but she would never have any difficulty in answering questions put to her by the teachers, especially in math or science classes. Still, it was quite a shock to hear her referred to as a genius in such a matter of fact manner. 

“She was in the photograph,” Stiles said. In this world, Lydia barely looked at him, even when he was talking to her. She probably didn’t even know his name, for all his efforts to attract his attention. 

“She’s part of Scott’s pack,” Derek said. “Sort of.” 

“She’s a werewolf?” 

“No.” Derek said it shortly and definitely, without any hint that he might explain any further. Stiles decided that discretion was the safer route and stayed quiet. 

“Did you get anything useful from your contact?” Stiles asked. 

“Apparently his sister is dead and he doesn’t react kindly to strangers trying to talk to him about it. I need you to look up some murders.” 

“Murders? That’s a bit of a jump from parallel universes.” 

“There was a killer who murdered a bunch of people in Beacon Hills in my world. Her final batch of murders were going to be your dad, Scott’s mom and Allison’s dad.” 

“Who’s Allison?” Stiles asked. 

“Scott’s former girlfriend.” 

“Scott had a girlfriend?” That thought was up there with werewolves and parallel worlds in terms of weirdness. Scott was an asthmatic nerd who resided with Stiles at the bottom rung of the school social hierarchy. Scott having a girlfriend was strange bordering on inconceivable. 

“Not important right now,” Derek said. “The point is that in my world we stopped the killer. I need to know what happened in this one.” 

Stiles stood up, vacating his seat and letting Derek take control of the computer, since Derek knew what he was looking for. Stiles stared over Derek’s shoulder as Derek typed in search terms about death and murder. Stiles watched him type ‘head bashed in’, ‘strangled’, ‘throat cut’, ‘serial killer’, and ‘murder’ into the same search box. A surprising number of news articles came up in the results and Derek started skimming through them. Stiles put a hand on the back of the chair and leaned close over Derek’s shoulder so he could get a better view of the screen. He instantly regretted it as Derek pulled up a series of grisly crime scene photos. 

“Oh good god!” Stiles said. 

Derek quickly changed the tab to one with another article, this one accompanied only by a school photograph of the apparent murder victim. According to the glowing text, she’d been a paragon of virtue cut down in a tragic slaughter that was utterly unwarranted. The article said that she did charity work and volunteered at her local church. 

Derek turned to look at Stiles, a sad and curious look on his face. Stiles realised how close he’d been leaning only when his face was inches from Derek’s. He straightened up quickly. 

“Did you lose your virginity to a girl called Heather on her seventeenth birthday?” Derek asked. 

“Why the hell would looking at murder reports make you think of that?” Stiles asked. 

“So you did?”

“Yes.” 

They’d had sex in the basement of her house during her birthday party. It had been messy and awkward, not helped by the fact that neither of them really knew what they were doing and the fact that porn was apparently not an adequate substitute for experience. They’d spent half the time either apologising or laughing. It wasn’t an experience that either of them had felt like repeating. 

“Why do you ask?” Stiles asked. “Is Heather my girlfriend in your world or something?” 

“No. She was one of the first victims, sacrificed because she was a virgin before you two had a chance to… you know.” 

“So Scott gets a girlfriend and the girl I like gets murdered?” 

“Allison’s dead too,” Derek answered. “She was just killed by something else.” 

Stiles considered this for a moment, while Derek returned to the computer screen, looking up more articles about murders. 

“Your world sucks,” Stiles said at last. 

“I don’t think this one’s any better,” Derek said. “I just think the murders happened somewhere else. The alpha pack had no reason to come to Beacon Hills, but the Darach found another place to commit her murders. Presumably this town isn’t the only one with a confluence of telluric currents. Going by the body count, she got all five groups in this world, which might explain why Deucalion is dead. No one was here to stop her from killing the final sacrifices.” 

“You do realise that none of that made sense to me, right?” Stiles said. “Literally none of it, apart from the bit where you mentioned murders.” 

“In my world, this psychopath known as the Darach killed twelve people in groups of three. We stopped her before she killed the final three. In this world, she killed all fifteen. Things are different in this world from mine, but that doesn’t mean they’re better. Your friend Heather didn’t get killed, but some other innocent person did.” 

Stiles didn’t know how to react to that. Selfishly, he was glad that Heather was still alive, but that was no help to the other poor soul. He also wasn’t sure that this had anything to do with him. Surely the police could hunt down this murderer, whoever she was. It wasn’t his job and it wasn’t Derek’s. 

“What are you going to do about it?” he asked Derek. 

Derek looked round at him and then shrugged. He turned back to the computer screen and opened up another tab, going to Facebook. 

“What are you doing now?” Stiles asked. 

“If Allison Argent never came to Beacon Hills, I want to know where her family are in this world.” 

A picture came up on the screen of a beautiful girl, all silky brown hair and smiles. Her Facebook page showed many such pictures, all equally stunning. 

“She was Scott’s girlfriend in your world?” Stiles asked. 

“Yes.”

“Wow.” 

Girls like that usually went for captains of the sports teams, not asthmatic nerds. Derek’s world must be a truly strange place to allow for a knockout like that dating Scott. 

Stiles left Derek to read Facebook information and look things up in a search engine. Since he couldn’t use his computer, he started picking up the various scattered print outs, trying to assemble them into some sort of order. Not that it would really help. Stiles dumped a pile of paper on his bed with a sigh. Derek glanced round at him. 

“You could do sit ups instead,” he suggested. 

“Sit ups?” 

“I’m supposed to be your personal trainer, remember? If we’re going to make your dad buy it, you’ll have to actually do some training.” 

“I can bluff my way through,” Stiles said. Derek gave a derisive snort of laughter. “Excuse me?” 

Derek swivelled in his chair, looked Stiles up and down, and raised an eyebrow. Without a single word spoken, Derek managed to effectively convey contempt for Stiles’ physical state. Stiles folded his arms across his torso in a self-conscious way, glad that he hadn’t changed his shirt in front of Derek after all if this was his reaction. 

“I don’t know about the version of me from your world,” Stiles said, “but you shouldn’t judge me based on his standards. I happen to be in fine physical condition.” 

Derek smirked and stood, stepping over scattered bits of paper towards Stiles. Stiles took a step back and found himself against the wall, Derek standing right in front of him. He was close, too close, his face right in front’s Stiles’, their bodies almost touching. Stiles found his heart racing but it wasn’t from fear this time. 

“If your physical condition is so great,” Derek said, “show me those abs.” 

He took hold of the hem of Stiles’ t-shirt, starting to lift it up. Stiles grabbed the hem of his shirt with one hand, holding it down. With the other, he grabbed Derek’s wrist. 

“I’d rather not,” Stiles said. He could only imagine what Derek’s body looked like beneath his clothes. Stiles knew what his looked like. He knew that Derek would probably stop as soon as he saw. Stiles didn’t want this to stop. 

Derek smirked again, raising his hand, even as Stiles tried to hold it down. Derek didn’t look like he even had to try. Stiles tried to pull down on that wrist, but it lifted slowly with a mocking inevitability. 

“No,” Stiles said, without much feeling. “Stop it.” 

Derek gave a faint, almost wicked smile. His face was right there in front of Stiles’. Close enough to kiss. Stiles wondered what would happen if he did close that distance and kiss him. 

To Stiles’ disappointment, Derek moved away from him slightly, letting go of his hold on Stiles’ shirt. Stiles was ashamed at himself that he was actually disappointed that Derek had apparently taken him at his word and stopped when asked. Then Derek took hold of his own t-shirt and yanked it over his chest, exposing an impressive display of muscles. Stiles found himself inches away from washboard abs and pecs that he just wanted to reach out and touch. Derek put his hands on the wall on either side of Stiles’ head, toned arms perfectly in Stiles’ view. 

In comparison, Stiles felt extremely inadequate. 

“Holy god!” Stiles exclaimed. 

“No,” Derek replied calmly and with an intolerable level of smugness. “Just me.” 

He took his hands away from the wall again, grasping the bottom of Stiles’ t-shirt. 

“Your turn,” Derek said. “Let’s see what we’re working with.” 

“No!” said Stiles, thinking of the flab and pasty skin that would be revealed. He definitely needed to do about a million sit-ups before he even thought about taking his shirt off in front of Derek. 

“Absolutely not!” Stiles went on. “Never going to happen so get your hands off right now!” 

Derek gave a victorious smirk. 

It died on his face when the bedroom door opened and Stiles’ dad burst in. It took him about half a second to take in the scene of Derek holding Stiles pinned against the wall, and the discarded t-shirt at Derek’s feet. A moment later, his dad had drawn his gun and was aiming it at Derek. 

“Step away from my son,” Stiles’ dad said calmly, but with an edge to his tone. 

Derek did so. He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. Unfortunately, the gesture also served to show off those impressive chest muscles, which probably didn’t help any. 

“Dad, this isn’t what it looks like,” Stiles said. 

“It looks like a half-naked man is in my underage son’s bedroom, pinning him to the wall and forcing him to do something he’s protesting against.” 

“Yeah… that looks bad,” Stiles said. Stiles looked sideways at Derek, who was looking at him, as though expecting Stiles to miraculously pull an answer out of thin air to fix this situation. Stiles was annoyed that they were even in this situation. With all his sneaking around and werewolf advantages, he would have hoped that Derek would be better able to hear Stiles’ dad coming home. If Derek hadn’t been so distracted with mocking Stiles’ physical condition, they wouldn’t be in this situation. 

“I’m waiting for an explanation,” his dad said. 

“He’s my new personal trainer and he was trying to get me to do sit-ups,” Stiles said. 

“Just how stupid do you think I am? On second thought, Stiles, don’t answer that.” He turned to Derek. “Are you having sex with my son?” 

“No!” Derek said quickly. “Absolutely not. I am definitely not sleeping with Stiles. There has been no sex here whatsoever.” 

“Did you have to sound so definite about it?” Stiles asked. “A simple no would have sufficed. You didn’t have to make it sound like having sex with me would be the most horrific torment you can think of.” 

“Stiles, we’re not having this argument again. Especially while your dad is still pointing a gun at me.” 

Stiles looked back at his dad, who was still aiming his gun at Derek’s head. 

“Come on, Dad,” Stiles said. “Is the gun really necessary?” 

His dad looked at the gun in his hand, looked back at Derek, and then very slowly lowered the gun. He didn’t go so far as to put it back in the holster though and he continued to glare at Derek. Derek looked somewhere between embarrassed and terrified. 

“Who are you?” he asked. 

“Dad, this is Derek,” Stiles said. He toyed briefly with the idea of using a fake name, but decided against it. It was unlikely that his dad would associate this guy with one of the family who burned to death years ago. 

“What are your intentions towards my son?” 

“Dad!” Stiles protested. His dad ignored him, and continued glaring at Derek. Derek gave Stiles an uncomfortable glance and then turned back to the sheriff. 

“My intentions are to treat him with respect?” he said. It sounded more like a question than a statement. Stiles just rolled his eyes. 

“Dad, you’re acting like a cliché,” Stiles said. “I mean, threatening to shoot the first guy you catch me messing around with? Come on.” His dad finally holstered his gun. Derek didn’t look any less tense. It seemed they’d got a cover story, just not the one either of them had been intending. 

“You,” Stiles’ dad said to Derek, “grab your clothes and get out of here now.” Derek bent down for his t-shirt, pulling it over his head. To Stiles’ relief, he didn’t aim for the window this time. He walked to the bedroom door. When Derek got there, Stiles’ dad put a hand out to halt his progress. 

“You’re coming for lunch tomorrow,” Stiles’ dad said. “One o’clock. Don’t be late.” 

Derek nodded and then slipped past, making his exit. Stiles stood there, now the sole focus of his dad’s gaze. Stiles wondered if climbing out of the window was a viable escape route for him. His dad just continued to stare at Stiles. 

“So...” he said at last, “how serious is this thing between you two?” 

“Not very,” Stiles replied. “I mean, I’m not sure. We’ve not known each other all that long. We’ve just been, you know, hanging out.” 

“Hanging out?” 

“Yeah. Talking. Laughing. Playing computer games. There’s been no sex. Today was the first time I’ve seen him with his shirt off.” 

“How old is he?” 

Stiles considered the question, trying to think, trying to remember how old Derek would have been when the Hale house burned. He wasn’t even certain how many years ago the first was. 

“Twenty-five-ish,” he said. “I think.” 

“Stiles!” 

“We haven’t done anything illegal. And not just because I think Derek’s scared of you shooting him. With good reason I’d say, given your reaction today.” 

“I heard you yelling at him to stop and get his hands off you,” his dad said. There was a look in his dad’s eyes, concern and fear and love mingled into one puddle of emotions. Stiles crossed the room and flung his arms around his dad, feeling the hug returned a moment later. 

“It wasn’t like that,” Stiles said, when he broke the hug. “We were talking about muscles and physical condition and he was teasing me. He tried to take my top off and I told him to stop and he did. He’d stopped before you came into the room. He wasn’t going to make me do anything I didn’t want. We were just fooling around.” 

“Stiles, can you be sure you can trust this guy?” 

“No,” Stiles said. “Like I said, I haven’t known him long, but he seems alright so far.” 

“It’s just... after the last couple of days...” His dad broke off. He gave Stiles a serious look. “He was the guy Scott spotted in your car, wasn’t he?” 

“Um... maybe?” 

“Stiles!” his dad yelled. “A guy who is nearly a decade older than you drags you into the middle of the woods and you don’t think it’s worth mentioning to me?” 

“With how you’re reacting, can you blame me? At this rate, I’ll never introduce a boyfriend to you ever again!” 

“Boyfriend?”

“Um... maybe?” Stiles said again. 

His dad sighed. He dragged a hand across his face. He shook his head. 

“I need a drink,” he muttered. “You, just... stay in your room. Stay out of trouble for one night. Can you manage that? For me?” 

“One night,” Stiles said. “I think I can manage one night.”


	5. Chapter 5

Stiles was awake half the night finding more information on parallel worlds but still without uncovering anything useful. In the end, he started to recognise the names of authors of some of the scientific papers as they turned up again and again, so he just looked them up. He dropped them an email asking if anyone was doing any practical experiments with moving between other worlds. He wasn’t hopeful of a response. 

He gave up and went to bed in the early hours of the morning, waking to the sounds of his dad moving around downstairs. He got up and showered before heading downstairs for coffee. It was already mid-morning and his dad was moving around the kitchen getting out pans and implements for cooking lunch. 

“Does Derek eat meat?” his dad asked. 

“Yes. I mean, I think so,” Stiles answered. 

“You think so?” 

“I told you, we haven’t known each other that long and we haven’t exactly gone out on dates to steak houses I because I wasn’t sure how it would look for the sheriff’s underage son to be seen out on dates with an older guy.” 

“So you’ve just been making out in the woods?” 

“Hanging out. There’s a difference.” 

“I don’t want to know.” 

“Hanging out involves a lot less kissing. And almost no groping.” 

“Stiles...” his dad’s tone was a warning growl. For half a second, Stiles thought it was a sound worthy of a werewolf and that thought made him laugh a little. 

“Dad, nothing physical has happened between us. Yesterday was the furthest we’ve got and I doubt it would have gone any further even if you hadn’t walked in on us.” 

His dad seemed to consider this for a minute. He was clearly angry still, but Stiles wasn’t entirely sure what he was angry at. Was he angry at Stiles for dating an older guy? At Derek for being older? For being a guy? For the fact that Stiles hadn’t said anything about supposedly dating someone? Or just for the fact that Stiles was dating at all? 

“Stiles,” he dad said slowly, “you’re old enough that you should make your own decisions about your life, about what gender of person you’re interested in, about what sort of person makes you happy. I just... I want you to know that you can always tell me. Even if you think it’s not someone I’ll like, I want to know who’s a part of your life. And not just because I worry that someone might try to take advantage of you. I want us to be able to talk to each other.” 

“Dad, I told you that this thing with Derek was new. I don’t know if what we are is friends or boyfriends or what. Right now, he’s just a guy I’m spending time with.” 

“Stiles, I saw the way he was crowding against you. That’s not someone who wants to be friends. I suggest you find out what this guy is really after before this goes much further.” 

Stiles could hardly say that he knew what Derek was really after, but his heart beat faster when his dad had talked about Derek being interested in more. Was it possible? Could a guy like Derek, a seriously hot, supernatural hunk, be interested in someone like him? 

His dad prepared steaks for lunch. For once, Stiles didn’t argue about red meat being on his father’s menu. They were good steaks. Stiles wasn’t sure if his dad was trying to make a good impression or trying to apologise for his reaction the day before. 

Derek arrived a little early, thankfully using the door this time. He announced his presence by ringing the doorbell and everything, acting like a normal human being. He came nervously into the house when invited and greeted Stiles’ dad. Stiles noticed the glance towards where the gun holster would rest if he’d been wearing it. 

“Hello, Derek,” Stiles’ dad said calmly. “I apologise for threatening to shoot you yesterday.” 

“I apologise for the impression that I gave about things with Stiles.” 

It was all nice and polite and no one was threatening to kill anyone, which Stiles was counting as a victory. The awkward silence was painful and the tension so thick that it felt difficult to breathe, but Stiles would take what he could get. 

“I’m just going to have a word with Derek,” Stiles said. 

“In the living room,” his dad said. Stiles nodded. 

He took hold of Derek’s hand and led him through into the living room. Once there, Derek glanced down at their still-linked hands. Stiles let go at once, embarrassed again. 

“Well, we needed a cover story,” Stiles said, “and dad’s convinced we’re an item, so I think we should just go with this. I’ve told him that we haven’t known each other long, that we’ve mostly just been hanging out and talking, and that we haven’t had sex.” 

“So, basically the truth.” 

“I left out the parallel universe stuff, but yes. We’re going to need to pretend to be a couple though.” 

Derek looked extremely doubtful. He fixed Stiles with a serious stare that made Stiles want to squirm. It was fairly obvious that Derek wasn’t thrilled at the idea of pretending to be sexually attracted to Stiles. 

“We wouldn’t have to do much,” Stiles said. “I wouldn’t be into public displays of affection in front of my dad anyway, so we’ll just have to… I don’t know… kiss occasionally.” 

“You want me to kiss you in front of your dad,” Derek said, “to convince him that we’re a couple?” 

“Yeah. Sorry. I guess we should practice.” 

They stood there in the middle of the living room, the atmosphere at least as awkward as it had been in the kitchen with his dad. Stiles took a step towards Derek, who didn’t move away. He didn’t move closer either though. Stiles could feel his heart beating faster at the thought of kissing Derek, but Derek’s face didn’t show any emotion. Was he excited? Was he sickened? Was he angry that Stiles was effectively forcing his hand in this? All those thoughts crossed Stiles’ mind as he leaned in and touched his lips gently against Derek’s. 

It was a gentle kiss, more mechanics than passion. Stiles brought a hand up to Derek’s arm and felt the warmth of Derek’s hand on his hip, but other than that they weren’t really touching. There was no real enthusiasm for the kiss. Proof that any attraction here was one-sided. 

They were interrupted by a loud clearing of the throat. Stiles stepped away from Derek, certain he was blushing, and turned to see his dad standing in the doorway. Derek’s face was carefully blank. 

“Lunch is ready,” Stiles’ dad said. 

Stiles gave Derek an embarrassed smile and then they followed through into the dining room, which was just off the kitchen. They sat down to their steak and salads, eating in awkward silence, with Stiles and Derek sitting on one side of the table, Stiles’ dad on the other. Painful though the silence was, it was worse when his dad decided to break it. 

“So, Derek, what do you do for a living?” 

“I’m between jobs at the moment,” Derek replied. 

“So you’re unemployed,” the disapproval in his tone was tangible. 

“For now.” 

“Any criminal record I should know about?” 

“No.” Derek sounded slightly less certain about that, but at least a guy from another universe couldn’t have a criminal record in this one. 

“Dad,” Stiles said, “is this really necessary?” 

“Got much by way of family, Derek?” 

“Not anymore,” Derek answered. His tone went harder in a way that would be impossible to miss. “I have an uncle and a sister. No one else.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” Stiles’ dad said, his hard expression melting just a little. Stiles was aware of Derek beside him, the tension in his shoulders. Derek’s family had been killed and he’d been reminded of that constantly since coming to this world. Being asked about them like this had to be hard on him. Stiles reached out beneath the table and found Derek’s hand. He gave it a gentle squeeze. Derek squeezed back. 

“What’s your relationship history like, Derek?”

Stiles felt Derek’s hand tighten again around his fingers. That must be another difficult question for him. 

“Dad!” Stiles interrupted before Derek was forced to answer. “Please stop interrogating my boyfriend.” 

His dad looked at him and then nodded, “Alright.” 

Silence returned, but it was better than the questioning. Stiles retrieved his hand from Derek’s so he could cut up his steak. Awkwardness settled over the dining table. 

“Do you like sports?” Stiles’ dad asked. It was still a question but it was better than the earlier ones. 

“I don’t really follow any sports,” Derek said. “I play basketball sometimes. I played lacrosse a bit when I was in school but my family wouldn’t let me play on the team. They thought it was too violent.” 

Stiles’ dad cracked a faint smile for the first time all day, “I can sympathise with them. I worry Stiles is going to get smashed to a pulp every time he goes out of that pitch.” 

Awkward silence returned. This had to be one of the most uncomfortable experiences of Stiles’ life. He tucked into his steak, because chewing meant he didn’t have to talk. 

“Did you go to college, Derek?” the interrogation continued. 

“For a couple of semesters. I had to drop out because of family issues.” 

Earlier comments about dead family came to mind, presumably for Stiles’ dad as well, because he cut short that avenue of the conversation. The three around the table chewed and swallowed. Cutlery clacked against plates. Stiles decided it was time for someone else to break the silence. 

“So, Dad, how’s work?” 

“Good. We’ve tracked down the group that were stealing from shops in the mall.” 

“I guess you don’t have to deal with much violent crime in Beacon Hills,” Derek said. 

“Not much. The usually drunken fights on Saturday night, a few muggings, and occasionally a disgruntled neighbour will go berserk over someone not trimming the hedges or letting the dog crap on the lawn. We don’t generally get much in the way of organised crime in a town like this. Where were you before?” 

There was barely a moment’s hesitation before Derek said, “New York.” 

“Quite a difference.” 

“Yeah. This town is a nice, quiet change.” 

It was strange that a conversation about crime could be relaxing, but it was considerably easier a conversation than the ones before. Derek and Stiles’ dad discussed the differences between Beacon Hills and New York in terms of criminal activity and Stiles finally felt this was getting somewhere. 

When they finished, Derek offered to do the dishes. Stiles’ dad stopped him by insisting that Derek was a guest. Stiles took this as a good sign that he’d warmed up to him. His dad also didn’t protest when Stiles led Derek upstairs after the meal, though he did insist that there be no sex. 

“Dad, I’m not going to have sex while you’re in the house,” Stiles said. A moment later he corrected himself, “I mean, I’m not going to have sex at all ever.” 

“Just go,” his dad said, gathering up the dishes. 

Upstairs, with the bedroom door firmly shut, Stiles turned to Derek. 

“I am so sorry about that,” he said. 

“It could have been worse,” Derek said. “The first real conversation I had with your dad in my world was in the sheriff’s station after he arrested me on suspicion of murdering my sister.” 

"Oh," said Stiles. Then because the question would be bugging him forever if he didn’t ask, “You didn’t murder her, did you?” 

“Of course not!” Derek said. “My uncle murdered her.” 

“Oh.” 

“I killed my uncle, but he came back to life.” 

“Now you’re just messing with me,” Stiles said. 

***

Up in Stiles’ room after lunch, Stiles continued the research into parallel worlds. There hadn’t been any replies to his emails yet but that wasn’t particularly surprising given that it was the weekend. He’d asked questions about other worlds in a couple of supernatural discussion forums, but the responses there weren’t exactly useful either. 

Derek lurked in the room, sometimes peering over Stiles’ shoulder when Stiles found a slightly less useless website. The rest of the time, he just stood staring at him, or paced a little, or browsed Stiles’ bookshelves. At one point, he picked up Stiles’ lacrosse stick, staring at it in an amused way. 

“What?” Stiles asked. 

“This was how I knew there was something seriously wrong,” Derek answered. 

“Because I threatened to hit you?” 

“Because you threatened to him me with a lacrosse stick.” 

“Let me guess: in your world I have some special weapon for fighting off the supernatural forces.” 

“Sort of. You have a bat.” 

“A bat?” Stiles asked. 

“A baseball bat. It started with a wooden bat but that broke when you hit a werewolf with it, so you replaced it with a metal one.” 

“I fight the forces of evil with a baseball bat?” Stiles asked. “How am I still alive in your world?” 

Derek smiled, “I ask myself that question every other day.”


	6. Chapter 6

Scott wasn’t happy to discover that Stiles had a boyfriend and hadn’t told him. He was even less happy to discover that said boyfriend was actually Derek. 

“Are you out of your mind?” he demanded, standing in Stiles’ bedroom and staring at the two of them. 

“Quiet,” Stiles insisted, hurrying over to shut the door. His dad was still downstairs. He was the one who’d let Scott in and who’d told him to knock before going into the bedroom because Stiles was with his boyfriend. 

“Dad snuck up on us yesterday,” Stiles explained, “and jumped to the conclusion that we were an item and we’re going along with it because it’s easier than telling him about werewolves and parallel worlds.” 

“So you’re pretending to date?” Scott asked. 

“Exactly.” 

“And this has nothing to do with the fact that you find him hot?” 

Stiles could feel himself turning red. Derek was standing right next to him, listening to every word. When Stiles looked at him, there was a small smile trying to force its way onto Derek’s lips. He looked a little surprised which Stiles didn’t understand. Derek had to know his was beyond gorgeous. 

“Scott,” said Stiles, “this is purely to do with keeping the whole supernatural thing secret until we can figure this out. Nothing more.” 

He didn’t look directly at Derek after that. He just glared at Scott and willed him to shut up before he made this any more awkward than it already was. 

“I still think it’s a bad idea keeping all this a secret,” Scott said. 

Derek gave a faint huff of amusement. The other two turned to look at him. 

“What?” Scott asked. 

“It’s just that in my world you kept everything a secret from the sheriff for months, despite the fact he was investigating a large number of deaths caused by supernatural creatures.” 

“Well this isn’t your world,” Scott said. “Apparently.” 

“You think I’m lying?” 

“I think this whole thing is insane,” Scott said. “I don’t know what to believe about anything anymore.” 

Derek just nodded. It seemed he didn’t have an answer to that. There was a level of awkwardness in the room that nearly matched what there had been at the dining table earlier. 

“Well, this is painful,” Stiles said at last. “Why don’t we go out and do something fun? Preferably something that doesn’t involve me staring at a computer screen.” 

“Something cheap,” Derek added. “I’ve only got the cash I had on me when I got zapped here and I’m pretty sure my cards won’t work. I can’t afford to be frivolous.” 

Stiles considered for a moment. 

“We could go for a walk in the nature preserve,” he said. Then he grabbed his lacrosse stick and grinned at Derek. “We could play fetch.” 

“Is that a dog joke?” Derek asked, sounding distinctly unimpressed. 

“Oh god, sorry,” Stiles said. “Is that offensive? Is that like the werewolf equivalent of racism?” 

“It’s fine,” Derek said. “It’s just I’ve heard basically every dog joke you could think of. I’m sick of them.” 

“Right. No more dog jokes. If I’ve going to insult you, I’ll think of something original.” 

Derek gave the ghost of a smile, “Appreciated.” 

Scott looked between the two of them and said, “I’m the third wheel here, aren’t I?” 

“No,” said Stiles. “Come along. It’ll be fun.” 

He headed downstairs. He only had one spare lacrosse stick, so they’d have to take turns, but it could still be fun. He looked in on his dad, who was watching TV in the living room. 

“Bye, Dad. We’re going out for a bit.” 

“All of you?” 

“Yeah. Scott will be chaperone so you don’t have to worry.” 

His dad looked at Stiles and then to Derek, who was standing just behind him. 

“Alright,” he said. “But don’t be back too late.” 

“I won’t.” 

Stiles started for the door but his dad called after him, “And don’t do anything illegal.” 

***

They found a clearing in the woods. More accurately, Derek found a clearing. He seemed to know these woods well, even if he was in a different world from his own. Once there, Derek proved himself a little bit of a show off. Scott and Stiles hurled balls at him with their lacrosse sticks and Derek would catch every one out of the air with his bare hands, tossing them back towards the two humans for them to throw again. He didn’t even seem to be breaking a sweat. 

“That is just a seriously unfair advantage,” Scott said when they stopped for a break. “Imagine what it would be like to be a werewolf on the lacrosse team. We’d be unbeatable.” 

“There were two for a while back home,” Derek said. “You and Isaac.” 

“Isaac Lahey?” Scott asked. 

“That’s right.” 

“Let me guess,” said Stiles, “he ended up murdered?” 

“No. A werewolf hunter took him to France.” 

“That sounds worse!” 

“No, it was a good thing. Isaac wanted to go. He’d been through a lot and I think he needed to get away from Beacon Hills for a while and Chris needed the company.” 

“What about Isaac's dad?” Scott asked. 

“Oh. He got murdered.” 

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again,” said Stiles. “Your world sucks.” 

“Yeah,” Derek said quietly. “You may have a point about that. Want to walk up the hill? There’s a great view of Beacon Hills from up there.” 

***

Scott had to go to work, but Stiles and Derek stopped at a diner for some burgers. It was his favourite diner but he didn’t eat here often because he didn’t want to let his dad eat this food. Stiles insisted on paying, after Derek’s comments earlier about money. Derek resisted at first but Stiles wouldn’t take no for an answer. 

“You are infuriatingly stubborn,” Derek said as they sat across from each other at a table in the corner of the diner, waiting for their food. It was fairly quiet so there was no one close enough to overhear them as they talked. 

“Is that different from your world?” Stiles asked. 

“No,” Derek said with a smile. “You’re infuriating in every world.” 

Stiles laughed. “And I bet you’re a grump in all of them too.” 

They grinned across the table at each other. The waitress appeared then with their burgers. Stiles thanked her and Derek just gave a gruff nod. 

“I guess this is our first official date,” Stiles said. 

Derek looked at his food, picking at his fries but not eating anything. Stiles wondered what was wrong, if he’d done something or if Derek didn’t like this sort of food. Stiles would have asked, but he’d just taken a huge bite of his burger. He’d managed to empty his mouth when Derek spoke, not quite looking at him. 

“Earlier,” Derek said, “Scott said that you thought I was hot.” 

“Well, yeah, obviously,” Stiles said. “I mean... look at you.” 

“But does that mean that you find me attractive?” 

“Of course.” 

“I don’t mean abstractly or anything,” Derek said. “I mean... are you attracted to me?” 

“I just said yes.” 

Derek looked strangely nervous. Stiles felt his heart pounding in his chest and he wondered if Derek could hear it. He was terrified about what Derek might say next because he didn’t dare hope that Derek would say what he wanted him to say. 

“This act for your father,” Derek said, “is it just an act? Or...” 

Stiles was sure his heart would explode from his chest any moment. He reached out across the table, resting his hand gently on Derek’s. He tried to find the right words. For once in his life, he didn’t want to say the wrong thing. 

“That’s up to you,” he said. “I’d like... I mean... I wouldn’t object to trying to make it more than an act. But... what about your world? Is there a version of me there somewhere waiting for you to go back to him?” 

Derek finally looked up, meeting Stiles’ eyes. There was a deep sadness there that Stiles wanted to kiss away. 

“In my world, you’ve never really noticed me. You’ve always been obsessing over Lydia and lately I think there’s something going on between you and Malia. Her scent’s all over you. The other you. I didn’t think you’d be interested in me.” 

“Well I am. Very interested.” 

Derek smiled. It lit up his face like the sun. Stiles leaned over the table to kiss him on the lips.


	7. Chapter 7

Derek couldn’t quite believe all this was really happening. Ending up in another universe where he’d died in his teens wasn’t nearly as difficult a concept to grasp as ending up in another universe where Stiles wanted to date him. Things were still more than a little awkward and there was so much that this Stiles didn’t know about him. There were things Derek had no intention of telling him. The Stiles in his world knew about Paige and Kate and all ways he’d screwed up. That Stiles just barely counted Derek as a friend. If this Stiles found out everything, it could spell the end for this blossoming relationship. 

There was another subject that neither of them was bringing up but Derek was sure that Stiles was thinking about it too. Stiles was still researching parallel worlds, trying to work out what had happened to Derek to send him here. Neither of them had asked what would happen then. Derek’s own world was out there somewhere. What was forming now between him and this Stiles had an expiration date. Still, he could enjoy it while it lasted. 

Derek went out for a walk as evening fell because it was preferable to staying in his room. He was preserving his meagre cash flow by staying in the cheapest motel he could find. The room smelled of damp and he could hear the sounds of TV or conversation or sex from every other room in the place. The more time he spent out of there, the better. 

Even with his cheap accommodation, he was going to run out of money soon. He needed to do something about getting more. But how could he get a job in a world where he was officially dead? 

He walked the streets of Beacon Hills, mulling over the various problems he faced. He passed a few other people. He walked past a run of houses and saw a kid taking out the trash. A little further on, a young couple were walking, lost in their conversation. A man was walking his dog and he nodded a greeting to Derek. It took Derek a moment to return the greeting, he was so surprised by it. Back home, people out at night were considerably more suspicious of strangers. 

There were many differences between this world and his own, but this was one of the most subtle and yet more pervasive. The atmosphere of the whole town felt different. People were friendly, more relaxed, generally calmer. He supposed it was a natural side effect of people not worrying that they might stumble across dead bodies in random places. This town had murders and violence like any other, but there wasn’t the supernatural menace and random attacks that had plagued Beacon Hills in his own world. The feeling was almost infectious. The more time Derek spent here, the less he found himself looking over his shoulder, waiting for an enemy to attack. 

He knew that he couldn’t be sure the whole world was better. After all, he knew that some of the dark events that had happened here had just been shifted to another place, but other things didn’t seem to have happened at all, like the chaos of the nogitsune. In general, it seemed that this world was better off than his own. 

But this world had some problems his didn’t. 

Derek’s meanderings led him to a house that looked familiar, though it took him a minute to work out why. The house stood on a street of many others, with a neatly trimmed lawn and a car parked out front. Most of the house was dark now, but there was a light on at one of the upstairs windows. In the gloom, most of the features were hard to make out but then Derek spotted the name on the mailbox and remembered when he’d been here before in his world: Lahey. 

Derek stood beside the mailbox and listened carefully to the sounds coming from the house. There weren’t many. Someone was moving around a bit inside, and there was a faint clunking noise that Derek guessed was coming from the hot water system. Then Derek heard a sound, so faint and muffled that it barely registered at all, but which still made his instincts scream out that one of his pack was in trouble. He heard a whimper from somewhere below the house. 

Derek was thinking clearly enough to recognise that he probably wasn’t thinking clearly, but that didn’t stop him. He walked up the path to the front door, twisted the handle and, when the door proved to be locked, just put a fist through the wood so that he could reach through and turn the catch. He opened the door and walked inside. 

“Who the hell are you?” Lahey demanded, coming down the stairs in response to the noise of the breaking door. He had a shotgun in his hands. 

“Where’s your son, Mr Lahey?” Derek asked. 

“In bed, not that it’s got anything to do with you. Now get out of here before I shoot you in the head.” 

A shotgun blast at short range could do a lot of damage. Derek would survive it, but it would hurt like hell and take a while to heal. He didn’t particularly want to experience that again. He had to make sure Lahey didn’t fire that thing. 

“I notice you’re not threatening to call the cops,” Derek said. “If you start shooting people, someone will call them and someone will start asking awkward questions about that freezer in the basement.” 

“I don’t know who you think you are, but someone’s been telling you stories.” 

“No one had to tell me anything,” Derek said. He let his eyes shift. In the darkness, the glowing blue would be particularly effective. 

“What the hell?” Lahey asked. Derek saw his grip fumble a little on the shotgun in his surprise. He didn’t drop it though. 

There was no way Derek could make it up the stairs before Lahey could fire a shot, but it looked like the gun only held one shell. If Derek could get him to fire it, that would buy him enough time to get the thing off him. Lahey looked near panic right now, so it should take much to push him over the edge. 

Derek reached into his pocket and pulled out his car keys. It wasn’t like they were doing him any good in this world given that his car was back where he’d come from. Derek hurled the keys at Lahey’s face and then dodged sideways as the guy fired the gun in fear. The shot blast hit the wall harmlessly and then Derek was racing up the stairs. 

He yanked the gun from Lahey’s hands. The barrel was hot from firing, but he grabbed hold of it anyway, bending the metal out of shape. He dropped the useless gun to the floor while Lahey stared in fear and confusion. 

Before Lahey could react, Derek grabbed him round the throat and shoved him against the nearest wall with enough force to dent the plaster. He held Lahey pinned with his hand against the man’s neck and then he let his face shift slightly. He didn’t go all the way, but let his eyes gleam blue and allowed his fangs to extend. 

He could smell the fear pouring off Lahey. The scent of it was added to a moment later by the fresh stink of urine as Lahey wet himself. 

“What are you?” Lahey asked. 

“I’m a monster,” Derek said, his voice a low growl. “I would have thought you would recognise a monster when you saw one, since you see one in the mirror every day.” 

His gave his best threatening smile, showing off every fang. Lahey whimpered slightly. 

“What are you going to do to me?” Lahey asked. 

“That depends on what I find downstairs.” 

Derek resisted the urge to throw Lahey down the stairs. He was human and fragile. A fall like that could kill him. Instead, Derek just held Lahey tightly around one arm and yanked him along beside him as he went down the stairs and then through to the basement door and down another flight of stairs. Derek shoved Lahey towards the freezer. 

If someone had reported the shotgun blast, he wouldn’t have long before the police showed up. He needed to act quickly. 

“Open it,” Derek ordered. 

There was a padlock holding the freezer closed. Lahey fumbled with shaking hands to open it. Derek decided he didn’t have time to wait. He just went over there and snapped the lock off, tossing the pieces aside with a clang. Lahey jumped at the sound. 

Derek lifted the freezer lid. Isaac was curled inside, staring up at him with almost as much fear as his father. He was breathing hard, somewhere close to panic. Derek wasn’t sure if that was from the claustrophobia or from seeing a fanged stranger looking down at him. Either way, Derek held out a hand as Isaac sat up. Isaac looked nervously at him, then over at his father. After only a moment’s hesitation, Isaac took hold of the hand and climbed out of the freezer. 

Lahey had backed away and was edging along the wall towards the door. Derek grabbed him, lifting him off his feet. He dumped Lahey down into the freezer, where his son had been moments before. A part of Derek wanted to just break the man’s neck but instead he reached out and ran a hand over the lid of the freezer, where deep scratch marks showed from where Isaac had been trapped in here time and again. Derek looked at Lahey and let his anger show. 

“Someone will have called the cops about that shotgun blast,” Derek said. “When they get here, I suggest you confess your sins. Tell them how you hit your son, and throw glasses at his face, and lock him in a freezer. They might show you mercy. I won’t. If you don’t turn yourself in, then I will hunt you down and for every mark on the inside of this freezer, I will cut a mark into your skin.” He leaned down over the freezer, staring into Lahey’s cowering face. “Do you understand me?” 

Lahey nodded mutely. Derek smiled. Then he reached up and close the lid of the freezer. 

Derek turned to the door. He needed to get out of here before the cops showed up. But Isaac was still standing in the middle of the basement. 

“Who are you?” Isaac asked. “What are you?” 

“It doesn’t matter,” Derek said. He turned and fled from the house, the sound of police sirens growing louder as he did so. 

***

Stiles was woken up by the house phone ringing. He knew what this meant: the station. The only time they ever got calls in the middle of the night was when the station needed the sheriff, and it had to be pretty important for the deputies to wake up their boss. Stiles snuck from his room. The ringing had stopped and he could hear his dad’s voice in his room. Stiles carefully picked up the phone handset in the hall. 

One of the deputies was midsentence as Stiles lifted the phone to his ear. 

“... but Lahey keeps rambling about monsters and the kid looks scared to death. He’s not talking about much of anything. And sheriff... you need to take a look at this freezer.” 

“Alright, I’ll be right there,” Stiles’ dad said. 

“Sorry again about the timing, sir.” 

His dad promised to be at the station as soon as possible and he hung up. Stiles made to sneak back into his room but he wasn’t fast enough. His dad emerged from his bedroom and fixed Stiles with a cold gaze. 

“Do you listen in on all my phone calls?” he asked. 

“No,” said Stiles. “Not the boring ones. What’s going on?” 

“Breaking and entry and child abuse wrapped up in one case.” 

“What was the thing about monsters?” Stiles was more than just curious about that one. Having seen a guy turn into a scary monster and heard about all the nightmare things that showed up in Derek’s world, he wanted to know that the same wasn’t about to happen here. 

“I don’t know. Lahey apparently isn’t making much sense.”

“Lahey?” Stiles asked. “As in Isaac Lahey’s dad?” 

“Yeah, I think so. You know the kid?” 

“He’s on the lacrosse team.” Stiles didn’t mention that Derek had talked about him as being a werewolf in the other world. Maybe that had something to do with this. Maybe Isaac was turning into a werewolf and that was what his dad was talking about. 

“I’ve got work to do,” his dad said. “You, stay here and get back to bed. Or look up a little thing called invasion of privacy.” 

He pointed to Stiles’ bedroom. Stiles reluctantly nodded and went back into his room. He shut the door and then jumped violently as he saw Derek standing there. 

“What the hell?” he asked in a quiet hiss so his dad wouldn’t hear. “It’s the middle of the night!” 

“You’re already awake though.” 

“Do people in your world not knock?” 

“Most people do.” 

Stiles gave Derek a glare but it was hard to get much feeling behind it because he was burning with curiosity. Derek had to be involved somehow in what was going on. 

“Apparently Isaac’s dad is saying he saw monsters in his house,” Stiles said. 

Derek shrugged, “One monster. Unless he’s counting himself.” 

“What did you do?” 

“I just scared him a little. Whether he confesses or not, there should be enough evidence to put him away for child abuse and get Isaac out of his clutches.” 

Stiles wanted to be angry at Derek, but he kept thinking of Isaac. Isaac was always the quiet one at school, never drawing attention, never hanging out afterwards. Whenever the lacrosse team had a night out or a celebration of a victory, Isaac always had to miss out, saying he was needed at home. Stiles didn’t think he’d ever seen Isaac at a party or hanging out with friends. Stiles wasn’t sure he even had friends. 

“Is Isaac a werewolf?” Stiles asked. 

“No. Not in this world. In my world, I gave him the bite because he wanted to not have to be scared of his dad.” 

“Are you going to give him the bite in this world?” 

Derek shook his head, “I can’t, even if I wanted to. There are different types of werewolves, different levels of power. I bit Isaac in my world when I have the powers of an alpha but I sacrificed those powers to save the life of someone important to me. Now, I physically can’t turn anyone. Isaac is stuck being human. But at least he won’t be stuck getting locked in a freezer.” 

Stiles looked at Derek, seeing concern there, the way he was fighting for someone who didn’t even know him in this world. He smiled. 

“You’re kinda sweet, you know that?” Stiles said. “In a scary, psychotic way of course.” 

“Of course,” Derek said, returning the smile.


	8. Chapter 8

“Stiles!” 

Stiles was awake instantly. His dad’s angry yell had that effect on him. He sat up in bed. For about half a second, he wondered what his dad was so angry about this time. Then he became aware of Derek sitting up beside him, equally trapped in the angry gaze. 

“Our clothes stayed on,” Stiles said quickly. “There was no sex.” 

“Stiles, I leave the house for a few hours and I find you in bed with... _him_!” 

“So you’d have been OK with it if I’d been in bed with someone else?” Stiles asked. He mentally cursed himself as soon as the words left him mouth. Clearly his brain was still asleep. 

“I just want to be able to leave you alone for five minutes without you doing something stupid.” 

“Derek’s not stupid,” Stiles said. 

“And there was no doing of anyone,” Derek added. 

Stiles’ dad glared at them for a minute longer before he sighed and dragged his hand across his face in a frustrated gesture. 

“Stiles, do you ever think that maybe it’s not my diet that’s behind my blood pressure?” 

Stiles cringed inwardly. He hated the idea that he might be causing his dad stress or suffering. He didn’t know what to say to that so he said nothing. His dad just sighed again. 

“Get up and come down to breakfast,” he said. “Both of you.” 

He left the bedroom. Stiles slowly climbed from the bed, giving Derek an embarrassed look. This wasn’t how he’d wanted this to go. This wasn’t how he’d wanted his dad to have another encounter with Derek. He was just glad he was still wearing the outfit he’d gone to bed in. If his dad had found them naked, he’d probably be washing Derek’s blood out of his sheets. 

“I should have just gone back to the motel,” Derek said. 

“At least he didn’t point a gun at you this time. That’s progress.” 

A few minutes later, the two of them made their way down to the kitchen. Stiles stepped inside and stopped short, seeing Isaac Lahey sitting at the table. He looked up nervously towards Stiles and then his eyes went wider when he saw Derek standing right behind him. He said nothing, just looked a little paler and glanced over towards the stove, where Stiles’ dad was making pancakes. 

“Isaac, you know my son, Stiles. And this is Stiles’,” he hesitated over the final word and said it in a tone of deep distaste, “boyfriend, Derek.” 

“Hi,” Isaac said quietly. 

“Hi,” Stiles said back. Derek just gave a curt nod, his face impassive. 

“Isaac is having some problems at home,” Stiles’ dad went on, “so he’ll be staying here for a couple of days while we work out things officially about where he should go.” 

After the call last night and Derek's comments about child abuse, Stiles didn't have to ask what sort of problems at home. Stiles guessed that his dad had had to choose between this and sticking Isaac in some group home. 

“Are you doing OK?” Stiles asked Isaac. Isaac nodded mutely. He was still shooting worried looks in Derek’s direction. 

Stiles’ dad brought the pancakes over to the table and Stiles and Derek took their seats as well. Isaac tucked in hungrily. Derek ate with rather more restraint, as though afraid that the pancakes might be poisoned. There hadn’t been any threats this time though, so Stiles thought things were going better. 

“After breakfast,” Stiles’ dad said, “why don’t you take Isaac up to the spare room and help get him set up. Spare sheets and towels and everything.” 

“No problem,” said Stiles. 

“And I thought you boys might like to hang out. Do something fun. Unless you’ve got plans of course.” He gestured towards Derek at that last part. 

“No plans,” Stiles said. 

They continued eating. If Stiles’ dad noticed the tension between Isaac and Derek, he didn’t say anything. Stiles was relieved though when everything was eaten and he had an excuse to leave the room, showing Isaac upstairs, with Derek trailing along behind him. Stiles led the way into the spare bedroom, a little room with barely enough room for the bed. It felt crowded with them all in there, but Stiles firmly shut the door, blocking his dad out of the conversation. 

“Are you going to tell the sheriff about me?” Derek asked. 

“What would I say?” said Isaac. “That you’re the monster my dad is talking about? They’d think I’m crazy. I’m not sure I’m not.” 

“You’re not crazy,” Derek said. 

“Why did you attack my dad?” 

“Because he was hurting you.” 

Isaac's eyes widened a little further at that remark. 

“But I don’t know you,” he said. “I’ve never met you. Why would you care?” 

“Because in another world, we’re friends.” 

Isaac just stared. There was a blank confusion on his face that showed that he had little understanding of what that last sentence meant. Stiles was willing to bet he’d worn that exact same expression when he’d talked with Derek in the Hale house. Derek explained the truth to Isaac, about the other world and the past that only Derek knew about, and about how in his world, Isaac had become part of his pack, gaining strength to be free from his father. 

Stiles noticed that there was at least as much Derek wasn’t saying. Derek had told him and Scott that Isaac’s father had been killed, but he didn’t mention that now, not so much as a hint. Stiles wondered how many other secrets were hidden between the words. 

“Can you make me a werewolf?” Isaac asked. Stiles couldn’t quite believe how someone would ask like that, with such hope in his voice, wanting to become something completely different from what he was now. 

“No,” Derek replied. “It’s not as simple as the movies make it out to be. I can’t turn you.” 

“I understand.” 

“There’s still a chance to get some of the good though,” Derek said. “I can’t make you like me, but you can still be free from your father. I can’t heal Erica’s illness, but she and Boyd can still have the belonging that they crave. It won’t be a pack but there can still be friendship.” 

***

They left Isaac taking a nap in the spare room. He was still coming to terms with his change in circumstances and it seemed that his body had just decided to shut down for a while. Stiles and Derek went back into Stiles’ room, which was still covered in the spread of paper. Stiles started to pick the pieces up, ready to start again, but Derek reached out, covering Stiles’ hand with his own. 

“Don’t,” he said. 

“Don’t what?” 

“Don’t bother with any more research into other worlds.” 

Stiles looked at him, puzzled, “I don’t understand.” 

“You can stop looking for information on how I got here, and how to get me back.” 

Stiles swallowed nervously, his brain almost afraid to process that sentence and take the thought through to its conclusion. Derek no longer wanted to get home. Stiles didn’t dare ask if it was because of him, since that would be awkward either way. They barely knew each other, so it was definitely too early in the relationship for Derek to move universes to be with him. Still, Stiles had that little spark of hope that maybe Derek was doing this because he loved him. He didn’t put that thought into words though, because it would hurt too much to have it shot down. 

Instead, he just asked, “So you’re going to stay in this world?” 

“You said it yourself: my world sucks. People die. It feels like almost everyone who matters to me ends up dead. This world is a new start.” 

“What about the people in your own world?” Stiles asked. “Won’t they miss you?” 

“I imagine some of them are glad that I’ve gone. Those that will miss me will get over it pretty quickly.” 

“I’m sure the other me will be missing you.” 

When Derek spoke again, there was a sadness in his tone that was painful to hear, “I’m not so sure.” 

***

Stiles called Erica and Boyd, and Scott of course, and invited them to hang out. The group were going bowling. Just a casual hanging out of people who weren’t exactly friends. Boyd and Erica were both incredibly surprised at having been invited. Erica even asked him if this was a trick. She was so used to being ignored or laughed at that she couldn’t believe an honest invitation to have some fun. 

It was fun, in between moments of extreme awkwardness because none of them were actually friends in this world. It took a long while for any of them to relax. Erica in particular kept looking like she was waiting for the catch. In the end though, there was fun. Stiles got to laugh at Scott’s atrocious bowling skills. He got to perform his own brand of victory dances whenever he pulled off a good shot. Plus he got to make out with Derek in between frames. 

Scott cornered Stiles about that when they went to top up their snack supplies. 

“I thought this thing between you was just a cover story for your dad,” Scott said. 

“Yeah, we kinda dropped the fake part of our fake relationship.” 

“Stiles, are you nuts?” 

“Maybe. But I really like this guy.” 

“This guy is a supernatural creature from another world. Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” 

Stiles looked back towards the bowling lanes, where Derek was sitting back in one of the plastic chairs, watching Boyd give Erica pointers on her bowling, with Isaac sitting beside him. It was a beautiful picture, calm and peaceful. A faint trace of happiness was showing through for each of them, despite their respective pains. 

“Werewolf or not,” Stiles said, “he’s a good person. Look at them. These are the people he chose for his pack in the other world. He could have gone for the jerks or the ones who wanted power, but instead he went for the misfits and the lonely. He offered them a place to belong. He’s a good man.” 

“I just think you’re rushing into things awfully fast.” 

“Maybe I am, but you know me: I always rush in without thinking. I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow or the day after, but I really like this guy. I want to make this work.” 

He gathered up the snacks and returned to the group. Stiles took the seat next to Derek , leaning against him and offering out a helping of curly fries to share. Derek took one but, before he put it in his mouth, he leaned in close to Stiles and muttered in his ear. 

“I heard what you said to Scott. Thank you.” 

***

Stiles’ dad had to take Isaac back to the station to sort out some paperwork about Isaac’s official placement, so Stiles and Derek had the house to themselves. They were up in Stiles’ room again, clearing away printouts on parallel worlds. Derek bent over to pick up some scattered pages, giving Stiles a good view of a tight ass. Stiles swallowed nervously. 

“So,” he said, “want to do something my dad will kill us both for?” 

Derek turned round, a grin forming on his face, “What did you have in mind?” 

Stiles walked over, attempting for a seductive tone but worrying slightly he might be sounding more silly than anything else, “You, me, considerably less clothes.” 

He reached Derek who was standing up straight and facing him now. Stiles reached round and grabbed hold of that tight ass, squeezing a little. 

“I’d like to get to know this a little better.” 

“I like that plan,” Derek said. He smiled and leaned forward, bringing their lips together. The kiss was warm and rich but far too brief. Derek pulled away before it had barely begun. Stiles was more than a little disappointed. 

“Hold that thought,” Derek said. “I’d hate to have to interrupt for a bathroom break once we get started.” 

He gave Stiles the briefest of pecks on the cheek and then slipped from the bedroom. Stiles sighed and tried not to be worried. Derek could be being completely honest. Maybe he did just want to go to the bathroom so that he could devote his full attention to Stiles. Or maybe Derek was having second thoughts and this was just an excuse to postpone what was coming. Stiles thought about the conversations they’d had earlier about the state of Stiles’ body and he was more than a little worried that Derek might not actually find him attractive. 

He was just getting caught into this spiral of doubts and fear, when a bright light burst out of the air in front of him. As he blinked away the afterimage, he saw a figure standing in the middle of his bedroom. A very familiar figure. Himself. 

Standing right in front of him was a person who looked exactly like him, down to the look of confusion on his face. The main difference, aside from the fact the guy was wearing a different outfit, was the baseball bat in his hand. Stiles took a step forward, staring in confusion, and a look of fear replaced the confusion on the other guy’s face. 

The other guy swung the bat.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for the shortness of this chapter but I figured you wouldn't want to be left on that cliffhanger for long. There may be some delays in posting as I have some book-related stuff to do this week. Also, I will be at London Film and Comic Con at the weekend, selling and signing copies of my novels. If any of you are attending that, feel free to stop by and say hi. The downside is that I don't expect to post any updates over the weekend.

There was an explosion of pain in Stiles’ arm where the bat struck. He yelled out, a wordless cry, that drowned out the cracking sound of the impact. He held up his other hand to gesture to the other guy to stop, unable to form actual words to ask him. It felt like his whole arm was on fire. 

“Stiles?!” Derek burst into the room. He paused only a moment to take in the sight of both of them together, then he rushed to Stiles’ side, putting a hand on the injured arm. The pain seemed to just melt away, a soothing sensation flowing through his flesh from the point where Derek’s fingers touched his skin. 

“Derek,” said the other Stiles. 

Derek turned to him with a snarl, eyes flashing yellow. 

“What did you do?” Derek demanded. 

“Derek, this isn’t real,” the other Stiles said. 

“Of course it’s real,” said Stiles. “And I think you’ve broken my very real arm.” 

The other Stiles ignored him, talking only to Derek, “Derek, right now you are lying unconscious in Deaton’s clinic. This is all an illusion. It’s all in your head. It’s not real.” 

“You clearly have no idea what’s going on,” said Stiles to his doppelganger, “because I am definitely real. I’m a person with my own thoughts and feelings, which right now include more than a little pain, thank you very much. And you can go back to whatever world you came from, because you’re in my world now and you can’t just go around hitting people with baseball bats!” 

“Derek,” the other Stiles said, “for once in your life, I need you to trust me.” 

Derek was looking between the two of them. Stiles could see it on his face the moment Derek made the decision. He was looking at the baseball bat at the time and then everything about him seemed to harden. His expression darkened. He turned away. He took his hand from Stiles’ arm and stepped towards the doppelganger. 

“Derek, no,” Stiles said. “I’m real.” 

“Let’s go,” Derek said. He grabbed the other Stiles by the arm and left the room, hurrying out of the house. He didn’t even pause to look back. It was like he’d just shut Stiles out of his mind completely. 

“Derek, wait,” Stiles called after him. He started to follow but in his hurry to leave the bedroom, he caught his arm against the doorframe. All the pain that had faded with Derek’s touch rose again in a crescendo of agony. He stood there, gasping through the pain, as Derek left the house and probably his life forever. 

Stiles sank down onto the carpet, leaned against the wall, and just cried. 

***

Derek should have known that this wasn’t real. Helping Isaac out, the fun with the pack, all of it was too good, too easy. Then there was Stiles. A Stiles willing to basically throw himself at him when they barely knew each other? Of course that was a fantasy. How could it be anything else? 

He looked at the Stiles standing beside him now. He looked just the same as the guy back in the house, but there was a difference in the way he held himself, a darkness in his eyes that could only come from living through pain. Plus, this guy had Stiles’ bat. Who else but the real Stiles would come into a fantasy world armed with a baseball bat? 

“What now?” Derek asked. 

“We go somewhere quiet. Deaton gave me the wake up ritual that should put us both back in our bodies.” 

“The preserve. We shouldn’t be disturbed.” 

They were already walking in the right direction. Derek’s first thought had been to get away from the illusion of Stiles, the one that sounded too real but said exactly what he wanted to hear. Now he had somewhere to head to as well as away from. He was tempted to take Stiles’ jeep. If this was all fake, then it wouldn’t matter if he stole it, but this place was altogether too real. He didn’t need to add complications to the situation. 

“What the hell is really going on?” Derek asked. 

“What we found in the woods was a magic worker in the middle of a ritual,” Stiles said. “You got caught in the backlash. You were knocked out. At first, we thought that was just what it was, but Deaton figured out that your mind was essentially trapped away from your body. There are apparently different planes of existence, the physical world is just one. There are also other levels of consciousness like...” 

“The astral plane,” Derek finished, “spirit worlds and dream dimensions.” 

All the things the Stiles of this world had been talking about when he’d done his digging into other worlds. It was weird to learn that the things he’d learned here might be real after all. 

“Yeah. Exactly. Deaton figured you mind had got trapped in a dream dimension. He sent me in as a guide to draw you back.” 

“Why you?” Derek asked. His mind was already filling with the things that the other Stiles would say. His imagination conjured up statements about caring, about wanting him back, about always coming to find him when he was in trouble. He hated his imagination right then, because Stiles just shrugged. 

“Someone had to do it and Deaton said it would be easier with a human than a werewolf.” 

Which meant it was going to be Stiles. Pretty much everyone else in the pack didn’t count as human. They had werewolves and werecoyotes and kitsune and banshee, and then there was Stiles. Of course, if there was a need for a human to perform a ritual it would be Stiles who volunteered. It had nothing to do with caring. 

“I’m surprised by this place,” Stiles said. “I was expecting something really whacky, or maybe like the dreams I had with the nogitsune, that felt really weird but were surreal at the same time, like someone had jumbled up pieces of my life and slotted them together in the wrong order. This place looks exactly like Beacon Hills.” 

“It’s not exactly like it. I should have known this was just a fantasy.” 

“Let me guess,” said Stiles. “The copy was less annoying than I am?” 

Derek glanced at him. He looked away. How could he tell Stiles, the real Stiles, that this fantasy world had a version of Stiles that liked him, that was attracted to him, that might be able to love him? The real Stiles would never look at him again if he knew the truth. 

“He certainly wasn’t acting like you,” was all Derek could say. 

Stiles looked at him, an expression that might have been concern crossing his face, “Are you OK? You kind of look like you’re about to cry.” 

“Let’s just do whatever we need to do. I need to wake up.” 

***

Stiles was still sitting in the hallway when his dad got back with Isaac. He was clutching his arm to his chest and just sitting there. He’d stopped crying at this point but the effort of standing up and dealing with anything beyond the pain in his arm was just too much to cope with. 

“Stiles?” his dad called as he came in through the front door. 

“Up here,” Stiles called back. His dad hurried up at the sound of his voice. He crouched down beside Stiles, tentatively touching his fingers to the swollen and bruised arm. Stiles hissed in pain at even that gentle touch. 

“What the hell did that bastard do to you?” he asked. 

Stiles shook his head, “It wasn’t Derek. It was...” he couldn’t say it was a copy of himself, “some other guy. He hit me with a baseball bat. I think my arm’s broken.” 

“Where the hell is Derek? Did he just leave you like this? What happened?” 

Stiles really should have spent this time thinking up a suitable story. Now he had to lie quickly, come up with something that sounded plausible, but which his dad wouldn’t pull apart in a heartbeat. 

“We were just outside the house and this guy came out of nowhere. He was on a bike, a bicycle, not a motorbike, holding a baseball bat. He whacked me on the arm. Derek asked if I was OK and then he ran off after the guy, tried to chase him down. I said I’d be OK. It didn’t hurt that much at first, I guess it was the shock.” 

“Stiles, can you give me a description of the guy who did this?” 

“I don’t know. He had a helmet on. I just... my arm hurt and I didn’t exactly stop to note down his particulars.” 

“OK. We can talk about this later. I need to get you to the hospital to get this arm x-rayed.” He offered a hand to help him up, which Stiles took with his uninjured hand. He started down the stairs. Isaac was standing by the front door, where he’d been presumably listening in to everything. 

“Isaac,” Stiles’ dad said, “stay here. If Derek comes back or you see any lunatics with baseball bats, you call me.” 

“Yes, sir,” said Isaac. 

Then Stiles’ dad ushered Stiles out to his car. He even did up the seatbelt for Stiles. Stiles leaned back in the seat and wondered which was more painful: the broken arm or the fact that Derek hadn’t even said goodbye. Derek was gone, gone off with the other version of Stiles at the first invitation. He hadn’t even tried to listen to him. Stiles knew this was real, he was real. Why didn’t Derek want to believe it? 

“Are you going to tell me the truth?” Stiles’ dad asked as they drove away from the house. 

“I told you what happened.” 

“Stiles, you have been telling stories since you learned how to speak, but this was not a particularly good one. I won’t to know what really happened.” 

Stiles was too upset and hurt to think of a good lie.

“Fine,” he said. “Derek’s really Derek Hale. He’s a werewolf from another world where he survived the fire and fights supernatural evils. A version of me from Derek’s universe appeared and attacked me with a baseball bat because he thinks this isn’t real and he’s convinced Derek that and now Derek’s gone with him and will probably go back to his own universe and I’ll never see him again.” 

His dad sighed, “Would it really kill you to tell me the truth?”


	10. Chapter 10

The hospital reception area was far too familiar, and not just because Stiles would occasionally come with Scott when he dropped off dinner for his mom. It probably said some terrible things about his life choices that he knew exactly how the process went of signing in and filling out the forms on what was wrong with him this time. His dad started filling out the personal information and then they were joined by Melissa McCall. 

“Hey,” she said, “what happened this time? Lacrosse practice mishap?” 

“Crazy guy with a baseball bat,” Stiles answered. 

“Melissa, can I leave Stiles in your hands while I go look for this alleged crazy guy?” 

Stiles noticed the alleged part of that. His dad was probably going to put out an arrest warrant for Derek. No lie Stiles could tell would convince him that Derek wasn’t complicit in this injury and the truth sounded too ridiculous to be believed. Still, Stiles had to try one more time. He couldn’t let Derek get hurt because of what some other version of him had done. Stiles caught his dad by the arm before he could leave. 

“Dad, don’t blame Derek for this,” he said. 

“Then give me an explanation I can actually believe that doesn’t involve Derek,” his dad said. Stiles couldn’t answer that. He already knew that the truth wouldn’t be believed. 

His dad left him then and Stiles had to finish with the paperwork. Thankfully it was his left arm that was injured, so he could still write, but he was now at the point of just wanting heavy duty painkillers. The drive here had jolted his arm about and it felt like about a quarter of his body was on fire. He wished Derek were here to do whatever it was he’d done back when this had first happened. He’s somehow been able to take away the pain with just a touch. But he was gone and all Stiles was left with was pain. 

“So,” said Melissa, “crazy guy with baseball bat?” 

“Yes.” 

“That’s the best lie you could come up with?” 

For a moment, Stiles considered arguing that it was the truth but he doubted Melissa would be any more inclined to believe him than his dad was. He hated the fact that people seemed to automatically assume he was lying. All he could do now was sigh and say, “Yes.” 

He got the paperwork finished and he suspected that Melissa might have let him skip the queue, because it wasn’t long before he was taken to the x-ray department for someone to take a look at his arm. Melissa was there, trying to be comforting, as he waited for the results. 

“No guy is worth going through this sort of pain,” she said. 

“It’s not like that.” 

“I don’t know exactly what happened but I know that if someone hurts you, if someone is physically violent, then they’re not worth putting up with. It doesn’t matter if they say they’re sorry, or if they were drunk or if they didn’t mean it, it’s not worth it.” 

“We’re not talking about Scott’s dad here,” Stiles said. 

Melissa gave him a hard look. She hadn’t mentioned him by name but it was pretty obvious who she was really talking about, what this little incident reminded her of. Stiles looked at her seriously now as she tried to wipe the surprise from her features. 

“I listen to my dad’s calls sometimes,” Stiles said, “if I think they’re going to be interesting. I heard what you told him the night Scott’s dad left. I haven’t told Scott.” 

She looked at Stiles for a long time. Clearly she didn’t know what to say about the subject. Stiles didn’t either. This was the first time he’d admitted to anyone that he knew that Scott’s dad had hit him hard enough to knock Scott out. And now he was sitting in a hospital and everyone thought that this was the same. People were assuming that Derek had hit him. Somehow that thought was worse than the thought that Derek had left him. 

Until this afternoon when Derek had announced his intent to stay in this world, he had been working on the assumption that any relationship between them would be a temporary thing. Besides, he’d barely known Derek days. It almost didn’t deserve the label of relationship. If Derek was summoned back to his own world by another version of Stiles, then this Stiles could live with that. What he couldn’t live with was the idea that everyone in this world would think the worst of him forever. 

“Derek isn’t the one who hit me,” Stiles said. 

“So you’re going to stick to the lunatic with the baseball bat story?” Melissa asked. 

“It wasn’t Derek,” he insisted. He wasn’t sure she believed him. 

***

They reached the edge of the preserve. A part of Derek wanted to slow down the pace, to linger in this world a little longer. In this world, Stiles liked him, was attracted to him, and was eager to be with him. In a few minutes, he would be returning to the world where Stiles barely put up with him, spent half his time complaining about him, and only came looking for him because a human was apparently more suitable than a werewolf. Derek wanted to cling to the fantasy a little longer. 

“Your dreams are far too realistic,” Stiles complained. 

“What do you mean?” Derek asked. He’d been thinking of all the ways that this world differed from reality, so the statement caught him completely off guard. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt physically tired in a dream before. Even the nogitsune dreams, which felt incredibly real in their own way. All this walking is wearing me out. I want the normal dream travel, where you think of going somewhere and then you’re suddenly there.” 

“I tend to have the dreams where I’m trying to get somewhere but have to keep stopping or going back from something I’ve forgotten so I never actually get anywhere.” 

“Standard anxiety dreams,” Stiles said. “People get that dream when they’re frustrated that they’re life isn’t going anywhere or that they can’t achieve their goals.” 

So Derek’s subconscious was frustrated with his life. That made sense. After all, everything he ever wanted seemed to get destroyed or held out of reach. No wonder his dreams reflected that. Still, they were better than the dreams where he saw the faces of everyone who’d died because of him. 

They reached a path into the preserver and started to walk away from the road. They’d barely left the road when Derek heard a car engine. He stopped and looked back, seeing a sheriff’s car approaching, lights flashing. The driver must have spotted Derek because he pulled up on the side of the road where the path started beneath the trees. 

“Oh crap,” Derek muttered. 

“What?” Stiles asked, coming back to look. They saw the sheriff getting out of the car. 

“Derek! We need to talk.” The sheriff sounded furious. He started towards Derek, walking beneath the trees at the edge of the preserve. Then he stopped short, staring in surprise as he saw Stiles, standing just beyond Derek. 

“What the hell?” the sheriff asked. “I left you at the hospital.” 

He looked down, staring at the baseball bat that Stiles still held. 

“Come on, Derek,” Stiles said. “This is just another illusion.” 

Derek had stopped short at the word ‘hospital’. Stiles, the Stiles from here, was hurt. He wanted to go to him, to make sure he was alright, but he knew that the real Stiles was right. This was just the dream trying to pull him in. 

“He was telling the truth,” the sheriff said quietly. 

“Come on, Derek,” Stiles said again. “Let’s just do the ritual and get out of here.” 

“Stiles said that a version of him from another universe attacked him with a baseball bat,” the sheriff said. “He’s at the hospital right now getting x-rayed for an almost certainly broken arm. I want to know why you’d hurt him.” 

“Because it doesn’t matter,” Stiles said. “None of this matters. This is a dream world. And the sooner I can get Derek to wake up, the better, and I don’t even know why I’m wasting time talking to you.” 

The sheriff gave him a long stare before saying, “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” 

“What?” asked Derek and Stiles together. 

“A dream world? Seriously? If this is a dream world, then why is my wife buried in Beacon Hills cemetery? Why did I have to spend this weekend dealing with a man who locks his son in a freezer? Why do I have folders of reports of violent acts? Why would someone dream a world like this?” 

“Because it’s based on the real one.” 

“This is the real world! I’m still not sure how to cope with the idea that there are now two Stileses, but that just means that I’m probably having a nervous breakdown. It doesn’t stop the entire world being real.” 

Derek looked down at his hands. He remembered another conversation with Stiles in another dream. Counting fingers. Four fingers and a thumb on each hand. Ten in total. Exactly the number he expected to have. What if Stiles was wrong? What if this wasn’t a dream? Then there really was a version of Stiles who could care about him, and who was probably in pain right now and needed his help. Derek wanted so badly to just go with the sheriff, to be with Stiles, and to just lose himself in this fantasy. But it had to be a fantasy. Fingers or not, the real Stiles had never shown any interest in him. 

“Let’s just do the wake-up ritual,” Derek said to Stiles. 

“So you can just leave?” the sheriff asked. “Just like that? Without even saying goodbye? So you’ll just lead my son on and then leave?” 

“Lead him on?” asked Stiles. Derek willed the sheriff to stop. If this really was his dream, he ought to be able to do that. He didn’t need the real Stiles to hear what Derek wanted to do with him, and to him. He’d never be able to face Stiles in waking life if he caught a glimpse of his fantasies here. 

“You let Stiles believe you were interested in him and now you can just walk away?” the sheriff went on. Derek was aware of Stiles staring at him as he drank in the true meaning of those words. 

“Interested in me?” Stiles asked. 

Derek started to walk away. He didn’t want to look at either of them. He didn’t want to look at the real Stiles and see anger or disgust over the fact that Derek was attracted to him. And he didn’t want to see the sheriff looking at him like he was a monster for abandoning this world’s Stiles. So he just did what Stiles had wanted him to do in the first place: he walked away. 

“Derek,” Stiles said, hurrying to keep up with him. “When you said that the Stiles in this world wasn’t acting like me, what did you mean?” 

“It doesn’t matter.” 

“Derek,” Stiles started again. Derek turned on him with a snarl.  
“Leave it alone!” he growled. Stiles took a startled step backwards. “Just do whatever you need to do to get us home.” 

“But,” Stiles began. 

“Just do it!” Derek snapped. “Whatever ritual or whatever that Deaton gave you to wake us up, do it now. I’m ready to go home.” 

A short distance away, the sheriff was watching this exchange, staring at Derek with hate in his eyes.


	11. Chapter 11

Stiles called Scott to give him a lift from the hospital and on the drive summed up everything that had happened that night, describing the events that had led up to the cast now around Stiles’ arm. The problem was that Stiles didn’t know where to go now. The sensible thing to do was to go home. He was tired and possibly slightly out of it on pain medication, so the most logical plan of action was to go to bed and sleep until the world made sense again. 

If the world ever made sense again. His werewolf boyfriend from another universe was probably at this moment doing a spell that would take him away from this world forever. Stiles’ eyes had been opened to the existence of things beyond the normal realm of experience. If Derek left, then everything would go back to the way it had been before: boring. 

Stiles sat in the passenger seat of Scott’s car, staring out at the trees passing by on the side of the road, and he thought about how quickly Derek had turned his life upside down. 

“Maybe it’s for the best,” Scott said, once the silence had dragged on for too painfully long. “Do you really want a boyfriend who could rip your throat out on the full moon?” 

“I could cope,” Stiles said. “I could… I dunno… chain him up on the full moon and feed him live mice. I had a pet boa once; I could do it. We could have made it work.” 

“I’m just saying, that maybe you should take this opportunity to find a romantic partner from your own species, not to mention universe.”

“Bet that’s not a sentence you ever thought you’d say,” Stiles said. 

“I’m serious here. There are so many things that are weird or wrong about you being with Derek so maybe you should just accept that he’s going back to wherever he came from and you should go… hang out in Jungle or something to meet someone new.” 

Stiles knew that Scott was probably right. Besides, Derek had chosen to go back to his own world. He belonged there. Staying here would have proved difficult given that Derek was legally dead and he had nowhere to live, no job and no source of money. Going back to his own world was the only practical option. Besides, whatever Derek might have said about not being missed, the other Stiles had travelled across worlds to fetch him. Stiles had seen the way the other him had looked at Derek and he was sure that Derek was wanted there as well. 

Stiles sat up sharply in the seat, spotting a car park by the side of the road, lights on and engine still running. It was a police car, but more than that, Stiles knew it was his dad’s car. 

“Pull over,” he said quickly. 

“Stiles,” Scott started. 

“Just do it. Please.” 

Scott pulled the car over at the side of the road, saying, “It might not be Derek. Your dad could have stopped here for some other reason.” 

Stiles didn’t listen. He just climbed out of the car into the chill air of the night. There was a path leading away from the road and Stiles headed in that direction, since he couldn’t see anyone on the road. Stiles hurried along the path through the darkness beneath the trees. Scott swore quietly as he got out of the car and hurried after him. 

They didn’t have to go far. A little way from the road, he found his dad, watching while Derek and the other Stiles did something on the ground below the trees. The other Stiles was scratching something in the dirt with a stick, marking the ground around where the two of them stood. He looked up with suspicion when Stiles approached, Scott coming up breathlessly behind him, but then he returned to what he was doing. Derek glanced his way and then looked away. 

His dad walked over to Stiles and put a hand on his shoulder. He opened his mouth a couple of times to speak but then changed his mind, obviously rethinking whatever he was planning to say. Eventually though, he did speak, saying simply, “Sorry I didn’t believe you earlier.” 

Stiles shrugged, “I wouldn’t have believed me either.” 

Stiles walked past his dad to Derek and the other Stiles. The other Stiles continued scratching things in the dirt. They were hard to make out in the darkness, just strange shapes and symbols marked in the earth. The other Stiles glared suspiciously at Stiles. Derek still wasn’t looking at him. 

Stiles swallowed. He reminded himself that he’d only known Derek a handful of days. Whatever claim he had on Derek’s affections, the other Stiles, the one who’d been smiling next to him in the photograph, had more. 

“Derek,” Stiles said quietly, “I get it if you want to go home. I mean, this isn’t your world. I knew that.” He’d known it since the first kiss, but still there had been a part of him that hoped, that wanted Derek to be with him enough to stay. It was a stupid, crazy fairy tale wish. A guy didn’t throw his entire world away from the sake of someone he’d known less than a week. 

“I just,” Stiles continued, “I wanted to say… goodbye.” 

His voice cracked on that last word. He wasn’t going to cry. Not like this. Not with his dad standing behind him and his baseball bat-wielding alter ego standing in front of him. And cry over what? This whole relationship thing had been a cover story anyway. It didn’t matter. And if he repeated that to himself a million times more, then he might just start to believe it. 

Derek finally looked in his direction, but he still didn’t meet his eyes. 

“Derek, be careful,” the other Stiles said. “This isn’t real, remember.” 

“Of course it’s real!” Stiles said. “I’m as real as you are, you idiot!” 

He was aware that he’d just insulted himself, but he didn’t really like himself right now so he didn’t care. The other Stiles looked at him in a slightly puzzled way. Derek actually met Stiles’ gaze, a sad and haunted look on his face. 

“This has to be a dream,” Derek said. 

“Why?” Stiles asked. Derek looked away again. 

Stiles walked towards him, stepping over the scratched symbols his other self had drawn in the dirt. He wasn’t going to leave it like this. Maybe Derek had to leave, but Stiles wasn’t going to let him leave thinking he was imaginary. He also wasn’t going to let him leave without a proper goodbye. 

Stiles reached Derek and leaned in for a kiss. 

Derek shoved him in the chest, hard enough to knock him over. Stiles twisted round so he landed on his good side. It hurt and would no doubt add a few bruises to his growing collection, but at least he didn’t land on his broken arm. It was painful enough, not just because Derek had been the one to do it. After he’d told Melissa that Derek wouldn’t hurt him, that fact hurt more than the fall. 

“Holy cow,” the other Stiles said. 

Derek turned on him with a snarl, “Just do what you need to do!” 

The other Stiles looked fairly pale in the darkness. Stiles wasn’t sure if that was because of the kiss or because of Derek’s anger. Either way, he pulled a jar out of his pocket. He tipped a handful of some powder into his palm. 

Scott came to Stiles’ side, helping Stiles to stand. Scott urged Stiles back a few steps, outside the collection of marks on the earth. For a moment, Stiles considered staying inside the marks, just to see what would happen, but his dad was standing only a few metres away. He couldn’t just disappear off to another universe and leave his dad here alone. So all Stiles could do was watch as the other Stiles scattered the powder over the symbols on the ground. 

The symbols glowed faintly with a soft blue light. The light glinted off Derek’s eyes and off the streaks of dampness down his cheeks. Derek was crying. Stiles felt something inside him lurch at that sight. Derek was crying over him, over leaving him. Stiles felt an answering moisture in his own eyes. 

The other Stiles pulled out another jar and tipped out some powder onto his palm. This time, he held his palm out in front of him and stood before Derek. He blew, sending a cloud of dust through the air and into Derek’s face. The powder hung there for a moment and then the air seemed to shimmer. For an instant, Stiles could see the woods through Derek, and then Derek was just gone. Empty air was where he’d stood only a moment before. 

Stiles swallowed around the lump in his throat. He felt Scott’s hand on his shoulder, a touch that didn’t provide any comfort. Stiles knew he would never see Derek again. In this world, he was already dead. 

The other Stiles looked towards him in surprise. 

“I figured I’d wake up when Derek did,” he said. 

“I told you,” Stiles said. “This isn’t a dream.” 

The other Stiles looked at him for a long moment. He glanced down at the cast on Stiles’ arm and then gave a grimace. He met Stiles’ eye again. 

“Oh,” he said. Then, “Crap.” And finally, “Sorry.” 

The other Stiles tipped out a little more of the powder and then tossed it into his own face. 

A moment later, the blue glow had faded and so had the other Stiles. The only sign of their other-worldly visitors were the scratches in the dirt. And one small object, lying on the ground near a large tree. Stiles walked over to it and bent down to pick up the forgotten baseball bat. 

***

Derek opened his eyes to a white-painted ceiling. A moment later, Scott stepped into his field of vision. He looked much like the one who’d been in the woods moments earlier, but this Scott smelt like a werewolf. He was back where he belonged, back in reality. Maybe everything else would fade like dreams usually did. He wasn’t sure if that would be a good thing or not. He didn’t want to forget being with the other Stiles, but he wasn’t sure he could live with the false memory either. 

“How are you feeling?” Deaton asked, stepping into view. Derek didn’t know how to answer that. He felt that reality could never live up to the dream, but he wasn’t about to say that. 

He sat up, or at least started to. He had a moment of dizziness, a sensation he was unfamiliar with, and needed Scott’s hands on him to keep him from falling down again. Hunger gnawed at his stomach and he wondered if his body had just been wasting away from starvation since that night in the woods when he’d fallen under the spell. He wouldn’t have been able to stay in the dream long, even if he’d wanted to. Still, at least it gave him an answer to offer Deaton. 

“Hungry,” he said. 

“I’ll fetch you something,” Deaton said. 

Derek looked around. He was sitting on the operating table in the back room of Deaton’s clinic. Stiles was lying on the floor beside the table, a coat folded under his head as a pillow. Derek just had time to worry that something was wrong with Stiles, that he wasn’t waking up, when Stiles’ eyes fluttered open. The momentary fear was squashed by a wave of relief. Stiles sat up without any of the difficulties Derek was feeling, presumably because he’d been out of it for less time. 

Deaton returning then, offering Derek a banana. He handed it over and Derek started peeling with hands that were shaking slightly. This had to be reality. But, as the dream Stiles had said, reality sucked. 

“Eat slowly,” Deaton advised. “That will be the first solid food you’ve had in almost four days.” 

Derek wanted to swallow the whole thing in a single mouthful, but he followed Deaton’s advice, while Stiles stood up and moved to stand in front of Derek, close enough that Derek could reach out and touch him if he wanted to. Derek wanted to. But he didn’t reach out. 

“Are you going to be OK?” Stiles asked. 

“I just need food to get my strength back,” Derek answered. 

“That wasn’t what I was talking about.” 

Scott gave him a puzzled look and asked, “What are you talking about? What happened in the dream world?” 

Stiles opened his mouth. 

“If you say one word about what you saw,” Derek said, “I will kill you.” 

“You’re really not feeling alright, are you?” said Stiles. “Your death threats are usually more graphic than that.” 

Derek reached out and grabbed the front of Stiles’ shirt, yanking him forwards. Stiles put a hand on the table to get his balance and stop himself falling forwards into Derek. Derek just glowered into Stiles’ face. 

“One word,” Derek said, “to anyone, anyone at all, and I will rip out your intestines and strangle you with them. That graphic enough for you?” 

“OK! Yes! I promise. Not a word.” 

Derek didn’t smell fear on Stiles, the usual waft of emotions that accompanied such a threat. But he didn’t hear a lie in Stiles’ voice either. Stiles meant his promise but Derek didn’t think that it was a fear of reprisal that inspired that sincerity. There was something else. 

Derek let go his grip. As Stiles moved away, Derek stood. He was considerably less wobbly this time. He wasn’t sure if that was because of the food or because of his anger. All he knew was that he needed to get away. He couldn’t stay in the same room as this Stiles and know that everything else was just a fantasy. 

“Derek,” Scott started to say as Derek pushed past him. 

“Let him go,” Stiles said. “He’s been through a lot. Give him time.”


	12. Chapter 12

Derek shut himself in his loft and locked out the world. The only contact he had with anyone was when he ordered food to rejuvenate his weakened body. He ate. He worked out until he was exhausted enough to just collapse into bed and sleep without having to relive the last few days the moment he closed his eyes. He tried not to think about the other Stiles, the dream Stiles, the Stiles that had smiled at him, and kissed him, and wanted to be with him. 

Derek turned off his phone when the incessant buzzing became too much to bear. He was tempted to throw the phone out the window and let it smash on the ground below but if he did that, he wouldn’t be able to order pizza. He just wanted them to take the hint that he didn’t want to talk. It was bad enough that his subconscious had tortured him with possibilities that were unattainable, without having the face the daily proof of that. 

There came a knock at his door. He could smell the unmistakable aroma of peperoni and cheese. Derek grabbed his wallet and opened the door. 

Stiles was standing there, holding the pizza. 

“I found the pizza guy standing at the bottom of your stairs looking horrified,” Stiles said, “so I offered to bring it up for him.” 

Stiles held out the pizza. Derek took it, shut the door on Stiles and turned back into his apartment. 

“Come on, Derek,” Stiles protested on the other side of the door. “We need to talk.” 

“We really don’t,” Derek called back. He set the pizza down on the table and opened the box, lifting out a slice. 

Stiles opened the door and followed Derek into the loft. He closed the door behind him. Derek glared at him over his pizza. It was bad enough that Stiles had seen the world Derek’s imagination had conjured. Why did he have to come here to taunt him about it? 

“At least pay me back for the pizza,” Stiles said. 

“I didn’t ask you to pay the delivery guy,” Derek pointed out. He probably should give Stiles the money though. If nothing else, it would stop Stiles having an excuse to pester him. He reached for his wallet and pulled out a couple of bills. He tossed them towards Stiles, the pieces of paper fluttering to the floor. Stiles made no move to pick them up. Or to leave. 

“We really do need to talk,” Stiles said. Derek glared at him and bit into his pizza, chewing deliberately. Stiles rolled his eyes. “Fine. I’ll talk then. I’ve had some long chats with Deaton about what happened and this whole ‘other world’ thing. We were working on the assumption that your mind was trapped in a dream dimension but we really don’t know for sure what happened and I asked Deaton about the possibility of it actually being a real place that we were somehow projected into.” 

“It wasn’t real,” Derek said, with absolute certainty. Why wouldn’t Stiles take the hint and just leave him alone? 

“You said that before,” Stiles said. “You said you knew it wasn’t real because I wasn’t acting like me in that other place. Did you mean because I… he… the other me… kissed you?” 

“Because you liked me,” Derek said quietly. 

“And naturally you assume that means the world must be fake.” 

“You’ve never liked me.” 

“Yeah,” Stiles said, tone dripping with sarcasm, “I drove to Mexico to rescue you because I hate your guts.” Derek looked at him sharply, but Stiles wasn’t done. “And do you not remember the thing with the swimming pool? Because let me tell you, as a guy without super strength or wolf stamina, keeping you from drowning for that long was tough.” Stiles sounded angry. 

“What are you saying?” Derek asked. 

“I’m saying I like you!” Stiles said. “God only knows why though because you’re a frigging idiot.” 

“You like me?” 

“Duh!” The word came out at almost a shout. “Why the hell do you think I risked doing this stupid ritual to bring you home?” 

The simplest explanation was that Derek was still dreaming. This was just another delusion where his wildest dreams were happening. Except… Stiles had saved his life more than once. Stiles had come back to help him when he was in trouble, and comforted him after Boyd’s death, and risked his life against enemies wolfs would run from. Derek looked back over the last few years and saw the events through new eyes. 

“You like me,” he said again. 

“Yes! God, you are dense.” 

“Why?” Derek asked the question without thinking. The idea that Stiles could like him in reality had caught him so off guard that it just slipped out. Stiles looked at him with an expression that clearly stated that he was an idiot. 

“You act like you’re this big loner who doesn’t need anyone ever,” Stiles said, “but then you’ll do something incredibly selfless. You’ll risk yourself to save Boyd and Erica, you’ll go charging in to rescue Scott when he’s in trouble, you’ll stand between me and a werewolf that wants to eat me. When things get tough, you’ll always, always put other people’s lives before your own.” Stiles looked at him with a seriousness in his eyes that was slightly spoiled when he continued, “Plus you’ve got the body of a swimsuit model.” 

Derek worked out and he was proud of his body, but he still wasn’t prepared for Stiles to make a comment like that. He looked like he believed every word, both about Derek’s body and about his apparent selflessness. Derek had never thought about it that way. Derek had never really worried about putting his life at risk because he knew his life wasn’t worth much to anyone. Hearing Stiles spell it out in those terms made him feel almost uncomfortable. He wasn’t used to anyone looking up to him. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Derek asked. 

“Why didn’t you?” Stiles countered. “I mean, you always act so grumpy around me. I thought you found me annoying. I always figured you hated me.” 

“I’ve never hated you,” Derek said. Then he managed a smile, “And you are annoying.” 

“And you’re a sourwolf with anger management issues. You’re always shoving me into things and threatening to kill me. You’re like the kid in kindergarten who’ll pull a girl’s pigtails to show that he likes her. How was I supposed to know you were interested in me?” 

There was still anger in Stiles’ tone, a trace of accusation that Derek couldn’t argue against. Derek could answer his question. They glared at each other. 

At some point, Derek had left the table and Stiles had been walking closer as he’d talked. Derek hadn’t really noticed either of them doing it at the time, but now they stood right in front of each other, still glaring. Derek could breathe in the scent of Stiles and he wondered if Stiles had always smelled like this and he just hadn’t noticed. There was anger there and frustration, but a deep, burning lust that overwhelmed all else. Derek had never wanted anyone as badly as he wanted Stiles in that moment. 

He didn’t care if this turned out to be a dream. He needed this. 

For a moment, they stared into each other’s eyes, breathing each other’s warm breath. Then they leaned together. Lips met. It was so far from the cautious nerves of the first kiss with the other Stiles. This was all fire and need. Derek grabbed the back of Stiles’ head, pressing them closer, mouths open as they tasted each other’s need. 

Stiles’ hands were on Derek’s back, on his ass, pulling their bodies together, pressing them into one. Stiles was warm. Derek could feel his rapid heartbeat pulsing through the skin where they touched. His own heart pounded in a deafening rhythm. They beat together. 

The pair of them stumbled, still locked in the kiss, over to the couch. Derek collapsed down onto the cushions, pulling Stiles with him. The kiss broke momentarily as Stiles repositioned himself, kneeling astride Derek’s legs as Derek leaned back against the couch cushions. 

“Tell me if we’re going too fast,” Derek said, a little breathless. 

Stiles grabbed Derek’s shirt and yanked it up. Derek was forced to lift his arms or Stiles would have probably just kept pulling and ripped the thing off. 

“I’ve waited years for you to admit you like me,” Stiles said. “No way I’m waiting now.” 

He leaned down to claim Derek’s lips with his own. Derek worked his hands up Stiles’ shirt while Stiles ran his hands over every inch of Derek’s chest. Supple fingers brushed his nipples, ran across the muscles of his stomach, worked up to squeeze gently on his shoulders. It felt like Stiles was devouring Derek’s body with his hands. 

Derek lifted up Stiles’ shirt and Stiles pulled away from the kiss long enough to let him get it off. Then Derek got a view of pale skin dotted with freckles. Stiles looked suddenly nervous. Derek heard the flutter of his heart. Stiles was worried about this. Derek grabbed Stiles in for another kiss, hoping to show with actions what he didn’t have the words to explain. 

Derek shifted sideways to lie down along the couch, pulling Stiles with him. When Stiles lay on top of him, Stiles reached between them for the buckle of Derek’s belt. Now it was Derek’s turn to feel a burst of fear. He and Stiles were here, together. Finally. Impossibly. Together. What happened if he screwed up here? What happened if Stiles didn’t like this? What if Stiles didn’t like being with him? And behind all those fears was another, deeper one: what if this was just a dream? 

Stiles undid Derek’s flies. Derek’s body was responding even if his mind was freaking out. He was already hard. The smell of Stiles’ desire was like a drug, filling his nostrils and making him want to claim him, to mark him, to make Stiles his. But there was a nagging reality that forced its way into the middle of this mess of passion. 

“I don’t have any lube,” Derek said, breaking away from another kiss. 

“We’ll have to be better prepared next time then,” Stiles said. Stiles had undone his own jeans, pushing their pants down around their knees. They lay, pressed together on the couch. Stiles thrust and Derek moved his own hips into the friction. They moved together, body rubbing against body, and Stiles’ hand worked its way between them. His long fingers wrapped around both erections, pumping firmly. 

It was Derek who came first, arching up from the couch cushions with a wordless cry, body shaking as he shot his load. A moment later, Stiles came, adding his own stickiness to the white that decorated their chests. 

Then Stiles collapsed down on top of him, lying sprawled across his chest, both of them sticky with sweat and semen. Derek’s breath came in pants. That had been utterly unromantic but somehow he couldn’t care. He and Stiles had just been together. Their mingled scents filled the apartment. 

Derek lay there, tired and happier than he could remember being in a long time. Stiles shifted, moving so that he wasn’t so much on top of Derek, but lying between him and the back of the couch. Stiles brought his mouth to Derek’s ear. Derek could feel the warmth of his breath as he prepared to speak. Derek waited for something important, some words of romance or affection. 

“I could really do with some of that pizza,” Stiles said. 

Derek turned his face to Stiles’ and started laughing. A cosy contentedness filled him so that laughter seemed the only outlet. Whatever realities might spoil things later, right now, in this moment, he could be happy. Derek kissed Stiles on the nose and climbed from the couch in his quest for pizza.


	13. Chapter 13

Stiles sat on the bench at the edge of the lacrosse pitch, watching the Beacon Hills team losing another match. Scott sat on one side of him and Isaac on the other. It seemed unlikely that any of them would get to play tonight. Stiles wasn’t even wearing his kit; the plaster cast on his arm would prevent him from playing for some time. Still, he sat on the bench to keep the other two company. Out of the pitch, Jackson threw the ball towards the goal, but it was caught by the opposition’s goal keeper. 

“Maybe we could find another werewolf,” Scott said quietly. 

“Huh?” Stiles asked, turning away from the action to look at him. 

“Derek might not be here,” Scott went on, “but there have to be other werewolves out there. Maybe we could find one willing to bite us. Me, Isaac, Erica and Boyd, like in Derek’s world. We could be a pack here too.” 

Stiles glanced round to the stands. Erica and Boyd were standing together in the crowd. Stiles wasn’t sure they’d ever spoken to each other before Derek’s attempt at pack bonding, but now they talked with each other and sat together at lunch. Stiles still felt a hollow loneliness when he thought about Derek and how easily he’d left, but at least some good had come out of him being here. Those two weren’t quite so alone and Isaac was a lot more relaxed now that it looked like his dad would be going to jail. 

“How would we even find a werewolf?” Stiles asked. He wasn’t dismissing the idea completely, but worrying about the practicalities. “We can’t exactly take out a personal add: ‘pack of high school misfits seeking werewolf for mild biting.’” 

“It could work,” Isaac said. 

“People would think we were insane.” 

“No, people would think it was a joke,” Isaac said. “The only people likely to take it seriously would be werewolves and they might be willing to help.” 

“Derek said something about hunters,” Stiles said. “Werewolves might not be the only ones who take it seriously.” 

They watched the game a little more. One of the opposing team tried to score but Danny managed to catch the ball. Scott and Isaac clapped from the side-lines. Stiles hit his good hand against his leg instead. Coach was yelling at the players, his words losing all sense under his violent enthusiasm. 

Stiles continued to think on the problem of how to contact a werewolf. He tried to remember if Derek had said anything which could be helpful. He’d mentioned that he had a contact who might be able to give him information, but he hadn’t said who that contact was. Stiles frowned as he looked back over his memories, hunting for a name. 

“Deaton,” he said at last. 

“Huh?” asked Scott. “You think Deaton’s a werewolf?” 

“Who’s Deaton?” Isaac asked. 

Stiles ignored Isaac’s question and got on with answering Scott’s. “No. I mean, probably not. But Derek said he had a contact who knew about supernatural stuff and then when the other me showed up, he said that he and Derek were really back with Deaton.” 

“My boss Deaton?” 

“I guess so. Unless you know another Deaton in town.” 

“I’m not going to talk to my boss about werewolves. He’ll think I’m insane and probably fire me.” 

“I could talk to him,” Stiles suggested. “That way, if I’m wrong and he thinks I’m crazy, you can just claim that I’m just a weird guy from school.” 

“You are a weird guy from school,” Scott said. Stiles shoved his elbow into Scott’s side. 

“It’s worth a try though, right?” Stiles said. Scott sighed. 

“Yeah. It’s worth a try.” 

***

They went over to Deaton’s the following day after school. Scott had work and Stiles just tagged along, following Scott into the back room of the clinic, where Deaton was trying to wash out the infected eye of a small puppy. The puppy in question apparently didn’t like having stuff poured in its eye, so Deaton asked Scott to hold it still while he worked. 

“Can I help you with something?” Deaton asked Stiles. 

“I was wondering if you knew anything about werewolves,” Stiles said. Deaton gave him a long look. It was a look that Stiles had seen many times before. It was the look of someone trying to figure out if he was serious. 

“I usually deal with less mythical creatures,” Deaton said. He finished working on the puppy’s eye. 

“Only usually?” Stiles asked. 

Deaton continued giving him a cold look. Scott rolled his eyes, no doubt thinking Stiles was an idiot for even asking. Stiles was beginning to think that Scott might be right. After all, he had no real evidence that Deaton was the contact Derek had mentioned, or that he knew in this world what he knew in Derek’s even if he was. 

“You might have better luck in the fiction section of a book shop than a veterinary practice,” Deaton said. 

“So you really don’t know anything about werewolves?” Stiles asked. 

“Why would you even want to know?” 

“We want to find one to bite Scott,” Stiles said. Scott gave him a glare. He’d wanted to be left out of this conversation so he could retain some semblance of professionalism with his boss. 

“Well,” said Deaton, “in that case, as someone who’s been bitten by many different animals over my career, I wouldn’t recommend anyone volunteering to be bitten by anything.” 

“Maybe you should go home,” Scott said to Stiles. He obviously thought that this conversation wasn’t going anywhere. Stiles was inclined to agree, but he wasn’t completely giving up on it yet. He couldn’t help but wondering about Deaton’s last response. 

“Have you ever been bitten by a werewolf?” Stiles asked him. 

Deaton gave him another long look before saying finally, “No.” 

“So you really know absolutely nothing about werewolves?” Stiles asked. 

“Stiles, just go,” Scott said. 

Stiles started for the door, resigned to the fact that he wasn’t going to get anything useful out of this meeting. Before he could leave though, Deaton gave a sigh and spoke again, finally giving an actual answer to the question. 

“I know that getting involved in werewolves is dangerous and could get you killed,” Deaton said. “Whatever you think you know, just forget it.” 

“So you do know about werewolves,” Stiles said. 

“I know enough to know that I don’t want anything more to do with them. If you’ve any sense, you’ll stay away too.” 

“I think it’s safe to say that Stiles doesn’t have any sense,” Scott said. He was standing too far away from the elbow in the ribs technique, so Stiles just glared at him. 

“I’ve sort of already got involved with a werewolf,” Stiles said. 

“He means physically,” Scott added, earning himself another glare. 

“We didn’t have sex,” Stiles said. “Besides, Derek isn’t the point. The point is to find someone willing to bite Scott, Isaac, Boyd and Erica.” 

“Werewolf bites can be lethal,” Deaton said. Apparently he’d given up all pretence that he didn’t know werewolves were real. 

“We know these guys can survive it,” Stiles said. “Can you help us find a suitable werewolf?” 

Deaton shook his head, “The only help I’m going to give you is to tell you to give up on this idea.” 

***

It seemed the only people who were particularly shocked at the fact that Derek and Stiles were now an item were Derek and Stiles. In fact, Lydia’s reaction on hearing the news had been a single word: “Finally.” There may have been a little initial surprise but it quickly passed and the entire pack accepted the two of them as a couple as though it were something inevitable. 

They’d gone to tell Stiles’ dad. That was a conversation that made Derek more nervous than any prior moment in his life. He expected the sheriff to be angry or shocked, or to protest that Derek wasn’t a suitable partner. Instead, he just looked at them both for a moment, nodded, and then said to Derek, “You’ll look after my son.” 

Derek wasn’t entirely sure if that had been a statement, a request or a threat. All he knew was that the sheriff had apparently accepted Derek’s new role in his son’s life without any great difficulty. He’d even invited Derek to join them for Sunday dinner. 

Despite all this, Derek still felt uneasy. He couldn’t stop thinking about the other world and the other Stiles. He’d readily accepted that as a dream but if Stiles could like him in the real world, then what did that mean? Stiles had told him that the world hadn’t vanished after Derek had woken up. It was getting harder and harder to deny the fact that that other world was probably real. That meant that the other Stiles was almost certainly real. 

And Derek had hurt him. 

He and Stiles went back to Deaton’s to talk about the possibility of other worlds. They stood in the back of Deaton’s clinic and talked about what had happened, and the theory that the other Stiles had had. Deaton acknowledged that it was possible and agreed with their logic that the world Derek had experienced was probably not a dream after all. But when Derek said he wanted to get back to the other world, that’s when things got difficult. 

“You want to go back to him?” Stiles asked. He sounded hurt. 

“To talk to him,” Derek said quickly. “To apologise for how I left things.” He didn’t add the other thing he felt he needed to apologise for: for using him. That Stiles had been so much like this one that it had been easy to imagine them the same person. He’d accepted the affection that other Stiles had been willing to offer, but it had been this Stiles he’d been thinking of. He felt ashamed of himself now for the way he’d acted and he wanted to make it right. That would only work if he could get back to that other world and speak to that other Stiles. 

Derek wondered how much of this was written on his face because Stiles smiled and nodded, seeming to understand what Derek hadn’t spoken. 

“OK,” he said. “But just so you know, I’m not having a threesome with myself.” 

That surprised a laugh out of him. That was something Derek hadn’t even considered, but now that Stiles had brought up the notion, the thought wormed itself into his head. 

“No,” Stiles said firmly. 

“It probably doesn’t matter,” Deaton said. Until now, he’d just been watching them talk with a look of mild amusement on his face. Suddenly he went serious. “Even if we can replicate the spell that let Derek project himself into another world, then the fact that there are two worlds implies that there are many, many more, potentially infinitely more. Trying to reach exactly the right world would be like trying to hit a single and specific grain of sand in a whole desert.” 

“But I was able to find Derek in the other world,” Stiles said. 

“Because Derek was already there. We had a target to aim for, something from this world to make the connection.” 

Derek tried not to feel disheartened. He’d known this wouldn’t be easy, but hearing Deaton talk about it made it sound impossible. 

“What about my bat?” Stiles asked. The other two turned to him. “I had my bat with me when we did the ritual to let me follow Derek, but I wasn’t holding it when I did the wake-up ritual and it wasn’t hear when I woke up. What if I left my bat in the other universe?” 

Deaton looked at him for a minute and Derek felt a faint flutter of hope that he didn’t just dismiss the idea out of hand. At last, Deaton gave a slow nod. 

“That might work,” he said.


	14. Chapter 14

Stiles couldn’t help thinking of the little group as a pack, even though they were all humans. He used the term occasionally in front of Isaac or Scott, who knew exactly what he meant, but he had to be careful about using it in front of Erica and Boyd. He hadn’t talked to them about werewolves and he wasn’t about to because he didn’t have any proof anymore and he was aware how weird the subject must sound. That didn’t stop them hanging out though. They’d started hanging out at lunch in school and Stiles made a point of inviting them to hang out after school. 

He invited the whole pack round for takeout and movies on Saturday. He was trying to keep busy so that he didn’t just spend his time moping about Derek. Not that inviting round a group of people he only knew because of Derek was the best way to forget about Derek. Still, it would be fun. 

While they were picking out movies and waiting for the food to arrive, Erica looked seriously at Stiles and asked, “Why did you suddenly decide to start hanging out with us?” 

Stiles wasn’t sure how to answer that. He could have said that it was because he wanted to be friendly or thought she was lonely, but that might come across sounding more patronising than nice. Instead, he decided to take refuge in the absurd and tell her the truth, knowing that it wouldn’t be believed. 

“Because a werewolf told me that we’re friends in another universe,” he said, completely deadpan. Then he grinned and shrugged, “Why does it matter? Do you not want to hang out?” 

She looked uncomfortable, “Yeah, I want to hang out. I just want to know why now? Why not before?” 

Stiles shrugged, “We just figured we could expand our social group.” 

She didn’t look convinced. Probably because Stiles didn’t sound too convincing. He was grateful for the arrival of the food which gave him an excuse to change the subject. They were diving into the pizza when he heard the thump from upstairs. Several pairs of eyes turned to look at the ceiling. 

Stiles’ dad was out right now, so they were the only people in the house. They shouldn’t be anyone to make any thumping noises up there. Maybe it was perfectly normal and a book had slid off his bookshelf or something. Or maybe someone was breaking into his house. He glanced round at the others, hoping someone would have an explanation or idea, but they looked just as confused as he was. 

“Should we call your dad?” Scott asked. 

“And if it turns out that a pigeon flew into the window, he’ll never let me forget it,” Stiles said. “Come on. Strength in numbers.” 

He headed for the stairs, pausing only when he saw his bag there at the foot of the staircase, his lacrosse stick poking out of the top. He retrieved the stick and led the way up the stairs, holding it as a weapon. Boyd and Isaac were right behind him, Scott and Erica a little further back. Stiles was actually a little more nervous that there might be nothing there and he’d look like an idiot for worrying about this. 

He kicked open the door to his bedroom. His heart seemed to freeze for a moment, and then he was across the room, flinging his arms around the man standing there. Derek was here in front of him again, standing in the middle of his bedroom. Stiles couldn’t quite believe this, but Derek was there, warm and real in his arms. Derek’s arms tentatively hugged him back. 

Someone cleared his throat. Stiles broke away from the hug and saw the other him standing there, holding the baseball bat and looking annoyed. Stiles quickly let go of Derek. He didn’t want to end up with his other arm getting broken. 

"You have a twin?" asked Erica. She was standing at the bedroom door, looking on in confusion. Stiles wondered how to explain this. There was no possible explanation he could make up that would sound remotely feasible. 

He sighed and said, “You know that joke I made about another universe? Not actually a joke. Meet bizarro-me.” 

“Bizarro?” asked the other Stiles. Stiles just shrugged. 

Erica and Boyd probably had more questions, but Derek looked Stiles in the eye and said, “Can we talk? In private?” 

Stiles turned to Scott, who took the hint. He herded the others out of the room so that Stiles could shut the bedroom door. He was left there with Derek and the other Stiles. Derek gave him an awkward sort of smile, but he looked more nervous than he had about having a meal with Stiles’ dad. He also didn’t look exactly thrilled to be here. The momentary joy Stiles had felt on seeing Derek again was quickly diminishing into fear. 

“Hi,” Derek said, breaking the awkward silence. 

“Hi?” Stiles replied. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Sorry? About what?” 

“About the way I left. About the way I treated you. About the way I reacted. About… about being with you.” 

“I’m not sorry about that bit.” 

Derek opened his mouth. He shut it. He turned and paced a few steps and turned back to Stiles. Then he turned to the other Stiles: “Could you give us a minute?” 

The other Stiles looked like he was about to argue, but then he left the room, shutting the door behind him with a little more force than was strictly necessary. If he knew himself, Stiles suspected the other him was going to be lurking by the door to eavesdrop on the conversation anyway, but maybe Derek would be able to speak if he thought they had privacy. 

“What happened between us,” Derek said, “shouldn’t have happened. Not like that.” 

“Why not?” 

Derek’s face was a cold mask, his whole body tense. Stiles wanted to run. He didn’t want to hear what might come next. He knew, just looking at Derek’s face, he knew that whatever came next couldn’t possibly be good. He swallowed around a growing lump in his throat. He wasn’t going to cry, especially not without hearing the rest. 

“You’re not him,” Derek said. “You look like him. You act like him. But…” 

“But he’s the one you’ve had whacky adventures with,” Stiles said. “He’s the one you…” 

Stiles didn’t say the final word. But Derek nodded anyway. 

“I liked you, I wanted you, because in so many ways you are just like him. But that’s not fair on either of you. I’m sorry.” 

For one tiny instant when he first saw Derek, Stiles had believed Derek had come back for him, to be with him. The fragment of hope was shattered in pieces at his feet now. Stiles swallowed again, fighting down the urge to cry. He wanted to be mad at Derek, but logically he could understand everything Derek had to say. 

“You’re going back to your world with him, aren’t you?” Stiles said. 

Derek nodded, “I have to. Every moment I’m here, my body is lying unconscious there. I can’t stay here. It never would have worked. Even with my friends pouring water down my throat to keep me alive, it would never last. I have to be back in my own world and you have to be in this one. There’s no way around that. But I wanted you to know that I’m sorry.” 

“I’m not,” Stiles said. The tears he was trying to fight were sliding down his cheeks. The few days he’d had with Derek were weird and crazy and like something out of a dream, but he couldn’t regret them, no matter how much it stung now. Because, for a few days, he hadn’t been invisible. Someone had looked at him and known him and loved him, and that had felt wonderful. To know that it was possible for someone to love him like that had to be worth something. 

“I came to say goodbye properly,” Derek said. “And to tell you that you were right. You said that the Stiles from my universe would be missing me.” 

“Well duh,” Stiles said. 

Derek laughed a little, “That’s what he said too.” 

There was something in that smile, a sort of surprised happiness, that stirred up a sense of resentment. He wanted Derek to be happy, but he’d wanted Derek to be happy with him, and even though he sort of was, he also wasn’t. 

“God, this is stupid,” he muttered. “I’m feeling jealous of myself.” 

Derek reached out a hand towards Stiles but then lowered it again. The distance between them felt like a gaping chasm but Stiles didn’t attempt to close it. Things had to be this way. Even without considering the challenges of Derek being out of his world, the other Stiles was the one Derek had known for longest, the one he cared about. Stiles had to accept that only one of them was going to get a happy ending here. 

“I’m sorry,” Derek said. 

“You’ve said that like five times now.” 

“I know... I just... I feel like I screwed everything up with you.” 

Stiles took a breath. He fought to stop the flow of tears. He needed to get a grip on himself. He wiped his face, straightened up, and looked Derek in the eye. 

“Get over yourself,” Stiles said. “I knew you for less than a week and half the time you scared the crap out of me. I’m not going to turn into some broken-hearted, weepy, romance-novel heroine because you chose to be with someone else, someone who is essentially me so it’s not like I have to feel inferior or anything. I’ll get over this.” 

Stiles forced a smile. Derek returned it, though the expression looked about as genuine as the one on Stiles’ face. 

“OK,” Derek said. “But if there’s anything I can do to help make things right, let me know.” 

Stiles started to shake his head, but then a thought occurred, “Actually, there is something you could do.” 

“It had better not involve sex,” said the other Stiles through the door, from where he’d been eavesdropping. 

***

“Are you sure about this?” other Scott asked. He had been brought through from the other world and now stood in Stiles’ living room, looking round at the little group who apparently all wanted the bite. Stiles was staying out of it. He didn’t want anyone biting him, but he wasn’t going to argue if the others did. 

“It’ll make life dangerous,” other Scott went on. He looked at Erica and Boyd, “You two died in my world.” 

“I could die now,” Erica said. “I could fall down and hit my head when I have a seizure. Hell, I could get hit by a bus. But I want to live first.” 

Other Scott gave a sort of pleading look towards Derek, who was watching the whole exchange but not interfering. Derek just shrugged. 

“Look,” said Scott, “you know the bite will take with us. You know we’re not doing to die from the bite. And we can keep quiet about what’s happened to us, avoid those hunters that Derek mentioned.” 

Other Scott still didn’t look convinced. 

“Maybe you could give us a list,” Stiles suggested, “of all the bad stuff you’ve faced in your world and how you’ve dealt with it. That way, if crazy monsters start showing up here, we’ll have a heads up.” 

“That could work,” said other Stiles. “At the very least, it wouldn’t do any harm and it could reduce the risks. I’ll go get started on that list because there’s going to be a load of blood and pain in here in a minute and I’m quite happy letting you get on with that without me.” 

Stiles excused himself from the room for the same reason, following the other him up to his bedroom. He was surprised that the other world Stiles was still squeamish, given the events Derek had mentioned. Derek came after them. Stiles was pretty sure that it wasn’t because he was scared of blood. 

“Thank you for arranging this,” Stiles said. “I know they want this.” 

“But not you?” 

“I’m happy being me.” 

Derek smiled, “You should be. You are a wonderful person and deserving of love. Never forget that.” 

Stiles nodded. This would be over soon. Derek would be going back to his world, along with the other Scott and Stiles. This time, they wouldn’t be coming back. Stiles would have to go on alone, but he could cling to the fact that there was someone who was willing, even if it had only been briefly, to consider moving universes for him. There had to be someone else out there who could love him. 

As if reading his thoughts, the other Stiles looked up at him and suggested, “Maybe you could give Heather a call when we’ve gone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of you called it about Scott giving them the bite. 
> 
> I couldn't figure out a way to give both Stiles a happy ending, but at least this was a hopeful ending. And it really was just a whirlwind fling for the alternate universe Stiles. I know this might not be quite the ending everyone was wishing for, but hopefully it's still acceptable.


End file.
